


Welcome To Earth

by dclaw23



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Awkward Crush, BAMF Harry Potter, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Minor Character Death, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Powerful Harry, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24732352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dclaw23/pseuds/dclaw23
Summary: It was all gone.Magic was gone.Even two decades couldn't possibly wipe out the Wizarding World without a trace. Harry didn't know what this world was, but he knew it wasn't his own.He was alone.---------------Harry Potter wakes up in an alley in New York City to a world vastly different than the one he knows. Apparently muggles can fly in Iron suits, super soldiers exist, and his neighbour might be that spider-man fellow.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Harry Potter
Comments: 409
Kudos: 2492
Collections: Harry Potter, Harry_PotterxMarvel_xSC, Marvel, Marvel Verse FF





	1. Lost in the Fog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wakes up in an unfamiliar place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this fic earlier this month after having a lot of ideas over the past few years. It takes a lot of inspiration from a variety of HP/MCU crossovers. There are so many good ones, and I always wanted to do my own take on one.
> 
> The ideas for this one actually started earlier this year after rereading [Fregor's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fregor/pseuds/Fregor) wonderful story ['Friendly Neighbourhood Falcon-Mage'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16365134) (seriously, go read it if you haven't). I fell for the ship hard, and given how few fics there are for it, I decided to be the change I wanted to see & started writing for the first in almost 8 years.
> 
> A good chunk of this story is already written. At any time I've probably got at least the next 5 chapters already written. Updates will happen roughly every 3 weeks.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

An unbeatable wand, a stone of resurrection, and a cloak of invisibility. Three items, individually powerful, best known for their combined power to imbue their master with the powers of death itself.

Harry Potter had never sought to master death. He walked to his death that day with no hope of ever journeying back. He had chosen to sacrifice himself and when the time came he greeted death like an old friend. And yet, whether by fate, miracle, or happenstance, he returned to the world of the living.

Later, as he stood across Voldemort's corpse, two wands - neither his own - in his hands, Harry dared dream that he had finally found some peace, unfamiliar a concept as it was. But it was not to be. Reality came crashing down, and with it the crushing realization that he was alone. The casualties of the battle were great, and among them was the family he had made for himself over the past seven years. There was no peace to be found.

And though he could not bear to face it - had locked the thought away and threw away the key, Death had marked him that day. And Death would not allow its chosen Master to remain ignorant for long. Nor would it suffer him to waste away, in his misery and self-imposed exile, in the aftermath of the battle. Wizarding Britain had been freed, and as its saviour and as the Master of Death, Harry Potter would also be freed of the chains that bind.

* * *

The unmissable smell of car exhausts, the stench of garbage, and an unpleasant herbal aroma. Those odours and many more were the first to greet him, before he even felt the hard pavement he was sprawled on. As his eyelids flickered open, he took in the sprawling skyline of steel and glass and concrete reaching into a cloudless blue sky. Alarmed, and needing to take in more of his surroundings, he tried to sit up, groaning as his stiff limbs put up a fight. He found himself sprawled at the entrance of an alley, between two large concrete buildings in what seemed to be a modern city. Looking around he also noted the garbage bags filled to the brim, the puddles of what he hoped were just water, the broken crates, empty barrels, and litter scattered around.

Dulled senses slowly coming to life, he then noticed the steady stream of people walking around. Men and women, unquestionably muggles, going about their day and seemingly oblivious to the teenager with black hair, striking green eyes, and a lightning bolt scar, sprawled on the ground just a few feet away.

Harry Potter was beginning to panic as he took in his strange situation. He was alone in a strange city, had seemingly been unconscious, and - as he jolted up and started searching his person & his immediate surroundings - he was without his wand.

A wizard without a wand was incredibly vulnerable and, having just survived a war, Harry was not someone who could allow himself to be vulnerable. Increasingly unnerved as he wrapped his head around the strange situation he was in, he desperately wished he had his wand on him. The desperation he felt was not in vain though, as in that moment he saw a wand appear in his hand with a swirl of darkness. It was a wand he was well acquainted with, one with a tragic and destructive history. It should have been broken and buried in the woods where he left it, but here it was in his hands after only a prayer in the wind.

"What the bloody hell is happening…" Harry muttered. He had so many questions. Where was he? How did he get there? And though he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer, he had another question - why was the Elder Wand in his hand?

It defied all sense that he could have somehow summoned the wand to his hand with only a thought. And why the elder wand, rather than his own wand? Why not the phoenix feather and holly wand that he carried on him at all times?

With a grunt, Harry picked himself up and got to his feet. With another glance at the people walking obliviously past, he took a few steps back deeper into the alley & raised the wand, flicking it skyward.

“Cave inimicum,” he incanted, casting a protective charm that kept himself hidden from the view of those outside its area. He followed it up with a muggle-repelling charm as well. The spells weren’t difficult, he’d certainly used them enough over the past year while on the run, but they seemed to be particularly easy to cast in this instance. His magic seemed to surge through the elder wand with no effort on his part. Something about the wand also seemed different. In an aborted thought, he almost described it as feeling… _pleased_?

Shaking his head and choosing to ignore the peculiarities of the wand, he pushed through and started casting. A few spells later, Harry discerned that he was in New York City, in an area called Manhattan. It was apparently August 1st, 2017 - the day after his birthday - and given that his reflection on a conjured mirror still showed the same young face staring back at him, he could only conclude that he was either hallucinating or in another time. The possibility of another world hadn’t even occurred to the seventeen year old wizard yet – after all, even magic had its limits... wizarding magic at least.

Taking a deep breath, Harry took down the privacy ward, and walked out of the alley. He joined the crowd of muggles and let his feet take him to places unknown. He knew he should be rushing back home, but he felt a strangely powerful sense of wrongness at the idea of going back to England. The feeling confused him, it seemed to have come out of nowhere, but he supposed it did make a small amount of sense. What awaited him there except an empty house, besieged by owls from those who sought his time and attention? Still, after waking up in another continent with no idea of how he got there, he would have thought he’d be more eager to get back home.

Stopping with the crowd at a crosswalk, Harry looked up at the sky, and stared directly at the sun shining so high above. Somehow, the blinding rays felt comforting, a reminder that some things never change. He may be in a foreign city, surrounded by strangers and far from home, but the sun was still the same as ever. It rose, and it set, and it would continue to do so for eons to come.

Looking back down, Harry caught the light turning green, and took that as his signal to follow the crowd of muggles as they walked across the road.

* * *

Several kilometres and short stops later Harry found himself in a part of the city filled with skyscrapers. Gone were the familiar multi-story buildings of brick and concrete, he was now in the heart of the metal jungle. And, he suddenly realised, he was hungry.

Almost on cue, his stomach rumbled.

Make that very hungry.

Picking the nearest place to eat, Harry found himself in a quaint café the name of which he'd already forgotten. The place had a cosy atmosphere, and he felt his shoulders relax a little bit at the friendly vibe & the rich, almost overpowering scent of coffee. He queued up behind a muggle businessman, third in line, and used the short wait to read the menu scrawled in chalk, in endearingly cramped handwriting on a black board above the counter. He'd seen some cafes in Surrey and London the few times he'd had the chance to explore, or on occasions where aunt Petunia dragged him with her on an errand. This place was not unlike those, but much like the world outside, there were differences that made him feel a little out of time.

When exploring the city earlier, Harry couldn't help but note the sleek architecture, and the widespread use of muggle technology - like those screens that decorated every skyscraper - and the little devices in peoples' hands. He was sure they were phones, based on the fact that people were sometimes holding them to their ears and having conversations, but they were certainly much more advanced than bulky things used in 1997. Even the café's counter was equipped with some sort of screen that appeared to respond to the cashier's finger presses.

He'd got his hands on some money. A confundus charm on a muggle gave him the chance to borrow a few bills and use a duplicating charm on them, producing a few hundred dollars in mixed bills. He could never dare to do that in the wizarding world, it would have been instantly noticeable that he was paying with worthless duplicates.

But in the muggle world. Well…

The girl at the counter took his order of a scone, a turkey sandwich, and a cup of tea, and seemingly noticed nothing wrong with his money. He found himself a seat in a comfy little armchair in the corner, where he settled down to sate his hunger. The sandwich was quite good but the scone was strange and the tea tasted bland & watery. He supposed he should’ve known better than ordering a cup of tea in a place that specialised in coffee.

As he ate, Harry tried to get his wits together. He knew he was somehow 19 years forward in time, in a country he knew very little about besides what little history and culture he had gleaned from some lessons in years one to six of muggle school, before he went to Hogwarts. Thankfully, there was no language barrier to complicate things further.

First order of business, he supposed, was to find the Wizarding World in this part of the world. Either Ron or Hermione, and damn if his heart didn’t clench at the thought of them, had previously suggested going to MACUSA to get their help in dealing with Voldemort. The idea ended up being discarded for various reasons, but it did lead to Harry learning more about the Wizarding community this side of the pond.

MACUSA was based in the Woolworth's building. He had no idea where that was, but it couldn't be too hard to find.

Maybe he could ask a muggle?

Settling on that path of action, Harry frowned as he considered his other dilemma. How was he supposed to get back to his time? The only time turners he saw were quite limited in how far they could go back or forward. He didn't even remember being anywhere near a time turner before waking up here, he-

What did happen before he woke up in this place?

He… He couldn't remember…

Putting down his cup of tea, Harry clutched his head as a dull pain made itself known. He tried as hard as he could to remember what happened before he woke up, but nothing came up. He vaguely remembered the last few days, but there was nothing strange about them. He'd just followed his normal routine. Unless he'd been snatched out of time from his bed in Grimmauld Place, something happened after he went to sleep; and something was keeping him from remembering just what happened.

It was his birthday yesterday, wasn’t it? Harry tried to remember what he did to celebrate, or if he even celebrated, but was distracted as the pain got worse. Wincing, Harry tried to clear his thoughts. Since he got rid of the horcrux in his head, he was better at occlumency than before, good at it even. He had to be, for his own mental health. Taking deep breaths, he spent a few minutes trying to shove away his questions about the gap in his memory.

"Are you okay?"

Harry looked up, startled.

"Is it a migraine? I've got some painkillers in my pill box if you need anything." the stranger said, sounding worried. He was a pale old man, with brushed back grey hair and a distinctive pair of sunglasses on. He was leaning down slightly, standing quite close, looking over Harry with an almost fatherly gaze.

Harry shook his head, pain receding as he brushed away all his questions. He was touched by the strangers concern. "I'm fine…" he breathed out quietly. He cleared his throat and continued, "Thank you for the concern though, I appreciate the sentiment."

The old man stood up straighter and took a few steps back. "It's no problem kid, glad you're okay." He half turned to walk away before stopping and turning back. "Where ya from kid? My old ears aren't what they used to be but I know that's not an American accent."

Oh dear. Harry hoped the elderly man wasn't planning to stick around to chat.

"I'm from England," he answered politely.

"Are you here with family? Tourists?"

"No I'm here alone."

At this the man frowned, and Harry really wanted to smack himself. Why would he tell the guy he was alone? That was just asking for him to ask more questions, and he was not in the mood to share with an unknown muggle.

"Wait. You're here in New York alone? How old are you? Please tell me you're eighteen," the old man was almost pleading at the end, and Harry would have been touched if he wasn't annoyed about the whole situation.

"Yes I'm eighteen," he answered slowly, trying to think of a way to keep this 'good Samaritan' from prying further. "I finished school and decided to travel before starting university. This city is my first stop."

The old man seemed to relax a little.

"Ah, taking a gap year! That's good, that's good. My great niece did that, but she went over to your side and did her gap year in Europe! Said it was a fantastic experience."

Harry made small talk with the man about the girls' adventures in Europe, as he finished his almost forgotten cup of tea. When the conversation started to wrap up, he stood up and started gathering his rubbish, dumping it in the rubbish bin when done.

As he made to leave, he thanked the man for the conversation and said his goodbyes. He was walking out when a stray thought came to mind. He stopped walking, and turned back to the old man.

"I can't believe how rude I've been, we've been talking for five minutes and I've never introduced myself. I'm Harry Potter, it was nice to meet you."

The old man smiled. "Nice to meet you too! The name's Gary."

Harry smiled back, before walking out of the café and picking a random street to walk down, and subtly casting a notice-me-not spell with his wand up his right sleeve. When he felt the spell take, he took out the Elder Wand and held it flat in his hand.

" _Point me_ Woolworth building".

* * *

There was nothing there.

Harry looked the massive building up and down for what felt like the hundredth time. He'd been standing outside it for half an hour, but try as he might he couldn't find the owl that should have been carved into the building.

He thought it was supposed to be over the entrance, but he could neither see it nor sense any magic in the area. The displaced wizard tried looking all around the building for any signs of an entrance for wizards, he'd tried looking inside the building as well, but it was all so decidedly _muggle_.

It was at this point that Harry begrudgingly thought returning to England was his best bet. And again, there was as strong sense of wrongness, like a whisper in the wind screaming at him not to. So, before he resorted to that, he thought of another option. It was reckless, improbably stupid, but it would probably work. Harry set his eyes on what appeared to a mobile phone shop located in the side of the Woolworth building.

_'That'll do'._

Harry disillusioned himself - just in case - and walked into the store, looking at the… what? - _ten? twelve?_ people there with some trepidation. It really was a reckless idea, and if Hermione were around she'd curse him to hell and back for it. But she wasn't there, and he was feeling decidedly _wild_ , so he squared his shoulders and went for it.

First he cast two protection charms over the store, keeping muggles outside from noticing anything, and sealing the doors of the shop. Then, thinking of his happiest memories, he cast his third spell.

" _Expecto patronum"_

At once his patronus materialised out of his wand, in a bright ball of light that quickly morphed into a dazzling, silver, ethereal stag. Harry grinned as he felt a wave of happiness rush through him from the magic of his patronus.

Other people in the store were not so thrilled. There was a startled scream from the woman closest to Prongs, as a stag made of light suddenly appeared next to her. The other muggles quickly turned to see the source of the panic, and they too were shocked.

Prongs started galloping around the store, making contact with some of the muggles, causing some of them to scream. It seemed that even the positive feelings induced by a patronus were no match for the fear and confusion muggles felt at seeing the impossible. Chaos had erupted as the muggles struggled to comprehend what they were seeing and some of them made for the exit only to realise they were trapped.

A minute later, Harry cancelled the spell and let Prongs return to his wand. He walked to the wall to his left and leaned on it, ignoring the muggles. Now it was a waiting game.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Five minutes.

Harry almost growled in frustration. Why had no American aurors arrived? Surely they'd have detected magic used around muggles? They certainly couldn't ignore such a breach of the statute of secrecy, no matter where they were in the city or state. He knew the protection charms he used couldn’t possibly prevent magical law enforcement from detecting his magic.

Thinking about the implications, Harry gave a sigh and decided to at least clean up the mess in front of him. A few minutes later, all the muggles had been obliviated of their most recent memories, and were left blissfully unaware. He took down the protection charms, and walked out of the store in a bad mood at his realisation.

Something was terribly wrong. New York was one of the central magical strongholds in the USA, it didn't bode well that he was unable to find their seat of congress, and that no one had arrived to deal with his flagrant use of magic.

All of this meant one thing; he had to go back to England.

"Well, no use delaying it any further," Harry muttered, ignoring the terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach - one that had begun the moment he didn't see the owl over the building's entrance and only intensified over time. Harry gathered his magic and with a quick twist, he apparated across the Atlantic ocean.

* * *

Harry dropped to his knees, winded from the weight of the day's revelations. He clenched his fists, and pounded them on the bricked pavement outside what should have been number twelve Grimmauld Place. He choked out a cry as he tried to hold back the flood of tears.

The Ministry of Magic. The Leaky Cauldron. Diagon Alley. Hogsmeade. Hogwarts. St Ottery's Catchpole. Godric's Hollow. Grimmauld Place.

It was all gone.

Magic was gone.

Even two decades couldn't possibly wipe out the Wizarding World without a trace. Harry didn't know what this world was, but he knew it wasn't his own.

He was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's chapter 1, let me know what you think please!


	2. A New Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry comes to terms with his new environment.

Harry didn't know what drew him back to New York.

Maybe it was because, even more so than before, there was nothing left for him in Britain. Maybe he suspected there was a reason he ended up in the city. Maybe a higher power was guiding him. Regardless, he found himself following this powerful urge to return, so he went back to the so-called city of dreams. Once there however, he didn't know what to do.

If he was right about this being another reality, it was possible that he was the only person in a population of over seven billion that had magic. He had yet to completely lose hope that magical societies could still be found in this reality. Perhaps they were hidden differently? But… he didn't even know how to start looking for them if they existed… and it seemed like such a waste of time to search for magic without anything to go on.

Harry realised he needed to establish himself in this world. After reading some history and culture books in a public library, Harry was reasonably sure this world was very similar to his in almost all aspects. Twenty one years made a huge difference however, and he was amazed at all the muggles had accomplished in that time. The technological advances were astounding.

He spent some time acquainting himself with the basics of computers at said public library. He was somewhat familiar with computers, what with Dudley owning one, but he never got to use it; and these computers were much more advanced, so he was a little lost. Thankfully, a friendly young man around his age saw him struggling and offered his help.

The lad seemed to think he was Amish. Harry didn't know what that meant but it seemed to excuse his lack of knowledge so he played along. He was quite amused when, after being taught how to Google, he looked the word up.

_'You're not that far off,'_ Harry found himself thinking as he read about the peculiar nature of Amish people. He would have thought the British accent would be a clue that he wasn't Amish, but if it worked, it worked. He also managed to grasp the basics of smartphones from watching some muggles use theirs - and Merlin help him if those things weren't more impressive than most of the magic he could do.

For the past few days he'd been living in hotel rooms. He was ashamed to admit to using magic to manipulate muggles into letting him use the rooms without having to pay or provide an ID. He essentially skipped through every part of the normal procedure. He stayed there for a night, then erased their memories the next morning as he left. The problem was that Harry by nature wanted a place to call home, and this arrangement, while functional, did not please him.

The young wizard knew he'd need an identity, a bank account, an educational background, and more. Those things were valuable in the muggle society of his world, and their value had only increased in this one. The problem was, he didn't have the slightest clue how to go about getting those things. The muggle world was vast and complicated, he couldn't just walk into a ministry building or a Gringotts and have it all sorted for him.

He did try to research the topic, but it all seemed so complicated. He either had to travel to some third world country, assume an identity there with liberal use of bribery, and then make his way back to the states by marrying a citizen; or he had to commit some sort of identity theft. While his magic would make certain tasks easier, Harry didn't believe he had the depth of knowledge to be able to pull off either option, especially with the many levels of bureaucracy involved.

The whole situation was incredibly frustrating, which is why Harry found himself in Central Park, off the beaten path and away from all the people wandering around. The young wizard found himself a large tree to sit under, leaning against its sturdy trunk. It was August, so summer was starting to make way for a gentle autumn breeze. The rustling of the leaves, the scent of grass, and the scattered beams of sunlight made for a peaceful atmosphere, which Harry was grateful for after the recent upheavals in his life.

As he leaned back on the tree with his hands behind his head, Harry considered his situation, and desperately wished for a solution to make itself known.

He did not expect for one to appear right there and then.

The startled wizard jolted forward as, with a small wisp of darkness that he only just caught sight of, he felt something drop onto his lap. He couldn't believe what he saw as he took in the soft silvery material of his invisibility cloak folded neatly on his lap.

With hands that trembled slightly, Harry picked up the cloak and began to unfold it, trying to take in the sight of his family heirloom. The wizard was also a little stricken at the fact that another hallow had made itself known to him, but for the most part he was just so very glad to have his father's cloak back. As he unfolded the cloak and held it up, Harry noticed a thick envelope on his lap - evidently it had been covered by the cloak.

He put the invisibility cloak to his side, and reached for the envelope. There were no markings, stamps, seals, or any signs of who had sent it. It was unsealed, so he opened it up and pulled out its contents.

Harry couldn't believe it.

"Bloody fucking hell…" he breathed out. "What? H-how?"

In his hands, he found everything he needed to start a life in this world. There was an ID card, a debit card, a credit card, a copy of a birth certificate, educational records, bank records, and more.

They all belonged to a Harry James Potter, born on July 31st, the year 2000. Skimming through the documents, he pieced together that this identity was that of a recently emancipated 17 year old whose aunt and uncle, Petunia and Vernon Dursley, had recently passed away in a car accident. Their son Dudley was with them in the car and had perished too, leaving Harry with everything.

_'How? What? What is this? This can't be real… Merlin, is this some spell? A terrible prank?'_

Setting aside the first set of documents, Harry picked up the next set and found records from the estate of… James and Lily Potter!?

_'Or maybe I'm in St. Mungos dreaming all of this up. That would make more sense whatever the fuck this is.'_

Feeling lightheaded, Harry had to stop reading and take a few steadying breaths. _In,_ he took a deep breath. _And out,_ he exhaled. _In. Out. In. Out._ Again and again until he felt settled enough to continue.

He dug deeper into the records, putting together more of his apparent background.

He was seemingly a British and American dual citizen, but he lived in the USA currently. Looking over the records of his so-called education, he was supposed to have one year of schooling left, and was currently taking a year off following the death of his 'family'. Finally there was a business card for a law firm, one hired to serve as executors of his family's estate.

Harry didn't know what to think or say about this identity that had fallen in his lap. He was speechless.

These documents were everything he needed. He didn't know how, but he'd magically been given a new identity that seemed to be built on his own truths. And strangely, he was confident that anyone who looked into it would find plenty of evidence that his 'family' had existed. This was much too detailed for the background not to have been made as airtight as possible. He honestly didn't know how to feel about the fake family he'd been given.

He could almost see them in his mind's eye, a version of the Dursleys looking so very similar to the one he'd known but with small differences.

It wasn't real of course. Or was it?

He wondered what kind of magic did this. Was it his own magic? Was it the product of whatever brought him here? Had he simply assumed the identity of an existing Harry Potter in this world? And how was the invisibility cloak involved?

He had so many questions.

If only he could get some answers.

But for now, he settled for getting in touch with that law firm.

* * *

It took Harry half an hour to find the law firm. He only had the address and a terrible map of the city he'd snagged from a news stand, so he'd just been apparating all over looking for it. It was only when he gave up and decided to just walk and ask random muggles for directions that he found it.

Mortimer & Coles LLP.

Harry stepped into the building, not knowing what to expect. He was greeted by a secretary who, on finding out his name, took him in to see the lawyer currently contracted to act as executor of the Potter estate, and executor of the Dursley's will.

The man, who introduced himself as Malcolm Coles, was polite but seemed strangely curious. Following a few probing questions, Harry gleaned that Malcolm thought he had dealt with Harry only a few months ago. The man considered his business with Harry mostly done, so he was wondering why Harry came in asking for details he should already know about. Harry had to use a confundus charm to trick him into thinking it was a normal procedure to go over everything again in such detail.

Malcolm proceeded to explain that Harry had inherited his aunt and uncle's assets, but the Dursleys had been in debt, so everything they owned had been sold off to pay their debts, leaving him with nothing.

That still left his 'parents' estate, which Malcolm explained was worth several million dollars - around the muggle value of Harry's vault at Gringotts, to Harry's surprise. His 'parents' assets had been liquidated after their death, and the money had been in the care of a fiduciary that had grown the fortune extensively over the past sixteen years through investments. It was a lot of money; enough for Harry to be considered well off even in New York, though not obscenely rich. Unfortunately, the estate wouldn't be released to him until he was eighteen years old - which according to his fake identity was in a year, when in truth it had already happened.

His emancipation complicated things, as it gave him the right to inherit property and large sums. Malcom suggested the possibility of filing a suit to obtain his full inheritance at his current age, but he didn't think it was likely to succeed, due to how stringent the wording of the will was.

That left Harry with an annual stipend of 130 thousand pounds paid out from the Potter estate. Previously it had gone to the Dursley's to pay for his care, but with their passing and his emancipation, it would be transferred directly to his bank account.

There were other details that Harry sorted out with the man, and questions he had answered, but after the initial discussion the meeting turned into a review of paperwork. It was important, and Harry respected how thorough the man was, but when he walked out of the law firm an hour later, he felt like a dementor had tried to suck out his soul.

Stuck sorting this new life out, Harry decided to get some other errands done.

A trip to an electronics store had him getting his own smartphone. Then, following the store clerk's recommendation, he followed it up by getting a sim-card and signing up for a mobile network. That second stop was a confusing mess that required liberal use of the ex-Amish excuse. Again, no one questioned his out of place accent, though there were a few ladies who complemented it - which Harry did find strange.

By this point it was late afternoon, and after stopping by an automated teller machine - which Harry was proud to say he figured out with ease - he decided to end his day out with some food. Finding himself starving, the seventeen year old wizard decided to grab some strange chicken wraps from a food cart, before finding a hotel to spend the night at.

Later, as he magicked his way into staying into another hotel, he decided he'd dedicate the next few days to finding a proper place to live.

* * *

It was amazing what money, determination, and a little magic could get done.

When Harry inspected his bank account, he found it contained exactly 130 thousand pounds - or rather 162 thousand dollars - as provided by the estate he'd seemingly inherited. That was a great deal of money, but by the end of his first day of house hunting he knew there was no way he could afford to buy a house anywhere in the city, nor could he afford to rent a place in Manhattan if he wanted the money to last.

So he decided to get professional help and hired a rental real estate agent. She helped him set a budget, narrow down his search, and then came up with a list of apartments he could check out. Three days later and over a dozen apartments inspected, Harry finally found a reasonably priced, relatively spacious apartment he liked at 15th Street, Queens. It wasn't anything special on the surface, but something about the place felt right - like an unexplainable resonance that drew him in.

From there it was only another three days to meet the building manager, fill out an application, get an expedited background and credit check, and sign the papers. Admittedly there was a little magic used to get things moving.

It was a Saturday morning he had started looking for a place, and it was the next Saturday afternoon that he ended up moving into the partially furnished, two bedroom apartment on the 7th floor.

_*Click*_

The door clicked shut as the manager left the apartment in the hands of its new tenant, still slightly baffled by the speed at which the teenager moved in. He was just about to walk down the stairs when he almost bumped into another tenant, the beautiful May Parker.

"Oh sorry 'bout that May," he apologised. "Wasn't watching where I was going."

The friendly woman waved his apologies off, "Don't worry about it Jerry, nothing happened."

Walking to her apartments' door and pulling out her keys, May wondered what brought the building manager here.

"So what brings you up here?," she asked Jerry, worry creeping in. "Rents not overdue is it? I'm pretty I gave you the cheque already, didn't I?"

"No, no, you're all paid up. Don't worry," Jerry replied with a reassuring smile. "Actually, I was actually settling in a new tenant. His name's Harry Potter and he just moved into that flat right across yours".

He pointed at Harry's door, just opposite the Parker's door.

"Oh boy. Do we have anything to worry about with this one?" May asked with some trepidation, remembering the aggressive musclehead who lived there last.

"I doubt it. He seems like a decent guy. He's young too, maybe a little older than your Peter," Jerry replied. He frowned moments later though as he considered, not for the first time, the implications of an emancipated teenager living alone. "He's legal though. Doesn't seem to have any family from what I've seen."

A sympathetic grimace passed over May's face.

"The poor kid… He's living all alone? Does he even have any furniture? I didn't see any moving trucks the last couple days…"

Jerry shrugged. "He's got the basics, but that's it. Didn't bring any stuff with him. Hell, I didn't even see him lug any bags or boxes with him… but I'm sure he's at least got some shit. He has the dough for it."

"Hmmm," May made a thoughtful noise, mulling the information over.

Jerry took that as an end to the conversation, and made to leave. "Anyway, I've gotta get goin' May. Take care, and say hi to the kid for me." He waved goodbye and made his way down the stairs.

"See ya Jerry," May said goodbye in kind, before turning back to her apartment door to unlock it. The woman was about to step inside when she made her mind up and turned, marching to her new neighbours door and knocking.

_*knock* *knock* *knock*_

Harry was meditating on the floor of his living room when he was startled by the knocking. It was something he picked up in the weeks after the war to help clear his mind, maintain his occlumency barriers, and keep his emotions at bay.

He got up and went to open the door, expecting to find Jerry. Perhaps he'd forgotten something? Instead he was greeted by an unknown. She had long brown hair and dark eyes; she was older than him - in her 40s perhaps? He wondered if she was a fellow tenant.

"Hello," he greeted her. "Can I help you?"

The woman smiled at him, radiating an aura of friendliness, and stuck out her hand for him to shake.

"Hi! I'm May Parker, I live in the apartment just right across."

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry replied, shaking her outstretched hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Harry huh? Nice to meet you too. I heard you just moved in, and I wanted to invite you over for dinner later tonight. Say…" she trailed off, tilting her head in thought for a few seconds. "Hmmm. Peter should be home at seven, so how about dinner at eight?"

Harry blinked.

He certainly wasn't accustomed to this brand of friendliness. God knows neighbours on Privet drive were never so welcoming to new people. He gave it a few seconds though before nodding, giving May Parker a friendly smile.

"Thank you for the invitation," he responded. "I'd love to come. Is there anything I could bring over?"

"Oh god no, don't you bring a thing except yourself," she scoffed, though not in a mean way. "Oh, I live with my nephew Peter. He'll be there too obviously. He's sixteen, and a great kid, so don't worry you won't just be stuck talking to this dinosaur."

Harry chuckled at May's little dig at her age. He was glad she didn't seem like any of the stiff house frau's on Privet Drive, Harry thought as he nodded to the exuberant woman. "Alright, I'll see you in-" he pulled out his phone to check the time, "in four hours."

"Great. See you then," May beamed, before turning away and walking into her apartment, leaving Harry to do the same.

_'Well then… my first dinner with muggles that don't hate my guts. This should be fun.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's chapter 2, It's not the most exciting chapter but it needed to be written. I hope you liked it!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who gave kudos, commented, bookmarked, and/or subscribed. I was astounded by the response, and I loved reading all the comments. It really inspired me to keep writing.
> 
> And yes, most of you guessed right! Gary = Stan Lee! It was his Spider-Man Homecoming cameo's name.


	3. Floating in a New Direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Peter, Harry settles into his apartment, then dinner at the Parkers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I painted some fanart of Harry based on how I picture him (sorry Radcliffe) - you can see it as my AO3 profile pic, or you can find the full image [ HERE](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/b5700044-d3c9-4182-aa1f-bfdaecdd57ca/de2fwwj-c4f32200-d775-446e-a38d-3d64ab4ca1c3.jpg/v1/fill/w_1024,h_1400,q_75,strp/harry_potter_by_hopereincarnated_de2fwwj-fullview.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOiIsImlzcyI6InVybjphcHA6Iiwib2JqIjpbW3siaGVpZ2h0IjoiPD0xNDAwIiwicGF0aCI6IlwvZlwvYjU3MDAwNDQtZDNjOS00MTgyLWFhMWYtYmZkYWVjZGQ1N2NhXC9kZTJmd3dqLWM0ZjMyMjAwLWQ3NzUtNDQ2ZS1hMzhkLTNkNjRhYjRjYTFjMy5qcGciLCJ3aWR0aCI6Ijw9MTAyNCJ9XV0sImF1ZCI6WyJ1cm46c2VydmljZTppbWFnZS5vcGVyYXRpb25zIl19.krd0LgWxVFu8jUgMACjxM_KDQPk_BlY_2cv3JkOJMqA)
> 
> Also I made some minor changes to chapters 1 & 2, added a one or two lines to each chapter. They're not especially important, just mentions of Harry being decent at occlumency. Started titling the chapters too, but I didn't give it that much thought so don't read too deeply into them.

"Hey May, I'm home!" Peter Parker called out as he walked into the apartment, backpack slung over his shoulder. He'd just returned from another day patrolling as Spider-Man. It wasn't particularly eventful. He'd mainly done small time jobs, stopping street crimes like muggings and thefts, though he did manage to stop a minor drug deal from taking place. All the criminals were left webbed up, with the police on their way thanks to Karen.

He wished he could have kept going, but part of his promise to May when she found out about his secret identity was that he'd be home around seven every night. She didn't want him to spend all of his free time being a superhero; it was important to her that he be home for family dinners, so they could talk and have that normalcy they once did. She also wanted to make sure he was on top of his schoolwork. Thankfully, she did let him head out to continue his patrol after all that was done, so he was usually able to head out between nine and ten and keep patrolling till midnight.

"Peter!" May greeted enthusiastically, her voice coming from the kitchen area. "Get over here!"

He wasn't sure what she was cooking, but it sure smelled nice. He hoped it tasted as good as it smelled. May was a great cook, but she loved to experiment, and that sometimes ended in disaster. Peter still felt sick at times when he thought back to her Arabian themed enchiladas.

"What's up?" the sixteen year old hero inquired as he strolled into the kitchen. He then came to an instant stop, eyes widening at the mess before him. "Whoa, what's all this stuff?"

May was standing over the stove, large cooking spoon in hand. She half turned to look at her nephew as he came closer. "What stuff?"

"Oh you know, just every pot and pan we own," he responded with incredulity. He was barely even exaggerating, there were two pots and three pans on all five stove burners - granted, not all of them were turned on, but still. Also, while the oven light was broken, he was pretty sure she was baking something too. And then there was all the damn stuff scattered haphazardly on the counters. It looked like his aunt had emptied their pantry and spice cabinet.

"Who's coming over for dinner, The President?" he teased. He wondered if someone important actually was coming to dinner? It couldn't be Mr. Stark. May couldn't stand the man, and even if he was invited she sure as hell wouldn't go to this much effort over him.

May grabbed a nearby utensil and swatted him on the arm.

"Hey!"

"Don't be snarky." She told him with her own teasing grin. "And it's no President, it's just this kid that moved in next door. I invited him over for dinner."

Peter raised his eyebrows, surprised that someone already moved into the empty apartment across from theirs. The previous guy hadn't moved out that long ago, so he figured it'd take a while for someone else to move in. There hadn't even been any signs of someone moving into the building. He was pretty sure he would have noticed the moving trucks...

"Oh. That's nice of you…" Peter trailed off.

Inwardly, Peter was dreading an evening of polite small talk with a stranger. However, he was a little curious as to why May decided to invite the new guy though. After all, she didn't usually pay much attention to people moving into the building.

"Well, I can tell you're excited," May said sarcastically. "Relax. The guy's around your age."

That did not help Peter relax at all. Talking to adults sucked, but he could get by. But given his lack of friends at school it was clear that he was even worse with people his age.

"I guess I felt sorry for him," May continued. She was frowning, unconsciously tightening her grip on the large utensil she was holding. "It's just, the guy's only seventeen, but he's emancipated and living here alone… and I think we both know what that means."

Peter was taken aback. Her invitation definitely made more sense now. Sure, it wasn't a lot to go on, but there weren't a lot of reasons for a seventeen year old to be a legal adult and living alone. Basically, his family was either really shit, or they were dead. Either way it meant the guy was someone who managed to escape the foster care system, for better or worse. So it was completely natural for May to want to welcome the new neighbour, as kind and as compassionate as she was.

"Oh. Right… I get it," he told his aunt. "Well, I'm sure he, uh, appreciates the gesture. Now, ummm, are you gonna get back to that?" He pointed at the stove where two pots were starting to bubble. "Or are we gonna have to get takeout instead?"

May froze up for a second, "Shit." His aunt quickly turned her attention back to the food, turning down the heat on one of the burners and stirring one of the pots.

Peter took that as his cue to retreat to his room.

"Harry's going to be here in an hour," May called out as he left. "Don't forget to shower!"

Peter grunted in acknowledgement, walking into his room and closing the door. He figured he could knock out some homework before getting ready. Sighing and tossing his backpack onto the floor, Peter moved to his bed and flopped onto it. He ran his hands through his hair then folded his arms behind his head, shutting his eyes and trying to let go of the day's stresses.

A little while later Peter sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He stood, making his way to his desk and starting up his computer. It wasn't long before Peter was hacking away at his homework, making short work of the physics problems the teacher had emailed the class.

Roughly half an hour later, he dropped his pen, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms above his head. _'Well, that's physics done. Guess I should work on the algebra stuff next'._

He was just about to grab his backpack and get his textbook when he noticed the time in the bottom right corner of his monitor.

It was 7.43pm. Well shit.

In what could only be described as a whirlwind of movement, Peter got up, snatched his towel, got a clean pair of boxers from his dresser, and sprinted to the bathroom.

_'17 minutes. That's okay, I've gotten ready and made it to school in less time than that.'_

Admittedly, as anxious as he was, Peter was almost eager to see this new neighbour - Harry, if he wasn't mistaken. Potential sad story aside, it wasn't every day he got someone around his age living across the hall. Most of the building was people in their late twenties rooming together - a few couples with young kids too, but no one his age. He wasn't expecting anything, but he really hoped the guy wasn't a jerk, it would suck so bad to live next to a dick like Flash.

* * *

Harry had a few hours to kill until dinner, so he decided to settle into his new flat. It had the basic essentials, like a kitted out kitchen, a bedroom with a mattress on the floor, and a bathroom with all the needed fixtures. The living room was completely empty though. He didn't have any plans for the second bedroom yet - it was just there to serve as free space he could magically expand as needed without alerting any muggles.

 _'Hmmm.'_ Harry stood in his bedroom, empty except for the mattress left in the corner of the room. He had the elder wand in his hand, twirling it idly as he tried to picture what he wanted the room to look like. _'I guess this is where it pays off to be a wizard.'_

When he found this apartment and started the renting procedure, he realised he would need to furnish it. Transfiguration immediately came to mind but he needed base materials to work with. Now he could have done this the proper way and bought materials from some sort of hardware store. Instead Harry stumbled past a junkyard and decided to _discretely_ help himself to some of the scrap metal & half rotting wood.

He pulled out one of the shrunken sacs in his pocket and dropped it on the floor in the center of the room. He then enlarged it and its contents, vanishing the sac to leave a pile of junk in the middle of his bedroom.

Lifting his wand, Harry grinned and got to casting. He was no Professor McGonagall but he was still decent at transfiguration. It was hard work, and there were more than a few transfigurations gone awry, but he got it done in the end. The result was a furnished room, with a simple, sturdy bed frame, a dresser, bedside tables, and a desk with a wooden stool. It was all fairly simple looking furniture but given his rather messy education, Harry thought he did quite well.

He then levitated the spare mattress the landlord left onto the bed and gave it a precautionary clean with a _scourgify_.

There was still something though.

Harry looked over to where the pile had been. He was relieved to see there were a few planks of wood left over and transfigured those into plain white sheets, pillows, and a thick blanket that he then levitated into place.

With the bedroom done, the satisfied wizard moved onto the living room and repeated the process, using up the rest of the scrap materials. He managed to furnish the room with a couch, several armchairs, a coffee table, a bookcase - which he intended to fill out, if only for appearances’ sake - and a small dining table with chairs. The place wasn't particularly big, but he liked it. It was turning out to be quite cosy.

Feeling reasonably satisfied with the furniture selection, Harry dropped into an armchair and put his feet up on the coffee table. He could have done more, he supposed, but he was no decorator and he had no idea what to add to the room to make it look nice & lived in. So he left it for the time being, with a vague plan to go shopping the muggle way at some point.

The last thing he had to do was set up protections. Now this was where he excelled. Armed with his knowledge and skill, it didn't take long to have what was essentially a ward surrounding his apartment - a set of charms that would act to repel those that sought to do him harm.

With all that done, Harry wondered about the time, so he cast a tempus and learned it was just past 6pm. Wand then safely tucked away, he pulled out his new smartphone and decided he could kill some time figuring out some of this muggle stuff. With some help from his bemused real estate agent, he had created an email already, and had figured out texting, voice calling, and video calling - which was by far better than any wizarding method of communication.

He'd also figured out how to use some applications on his own. The map application had him astounded - to think that muggles could navigate the world in such detail and with such ease. The camera app also never failed to impress. Over the last few days Harry had taken well over a hundred pictures and many videos in his exploration of the city.

More and more, over the past week, Harry had begun to see how primitive the wizarding world truly was. If muggles could achieve all this and more over the course of a few decades, what did it say about wizards - that their way of life hadn't changed in hundreds of years?

Shaking the thought of his old home away, Harry decided to continue reading up on this world's history. He had started the day before, by reading articles about major events and changes in the 80s and 90s. At present, he was reading about major events in the 2000s, and that was turning out to be quite an eye opener.

"No way!" Harry blurted out later that evening as he read about a series of events in 2009 involving a- a superhero? Some marvel of metal and engineering called Ironman. Harry was astounded that someone could invent a machine that capable. He let the video on the article play, and was gobsmacked as he watched Ironman, or rather this Tony Stark person, fly more freely than any wizard on a broom and reign down destruction on his enemies that death eaters could only dream of.

_'What in the gallopin’ gorgons is this world?'_

Noticing some recommended articles mention what appeared to be _'more superheroes!?'_ Harry started reading through them. By the time it was close to 8pm, Harry was almost in a daze.

A super soldier frozen in ice for decades. A scientist that could turn into a giant green troll. Real Asgardian gods. A spider mutant hero. All those marvels and more.

And all of these people were known to have been in New York.

Oh, and there was an alien invasion!

"Seriously, what in Godric’s arsecrack is this world?" he swore, audibly this time.

Harry almost couldn't tear himself away from his phone, but he knew he had to. It was only a few minutes till he was due at the Parkers', so he decided to forgo a shower & simply cast a cleaning charm on himself. He then transfigured his clothes into something a little nicer to wear. He ended up looking at outfits online and picking out one he liked. It wasn’t anything like what he usually wore, but then again anything nice looking would be a big change. He transfigured his clothes into a button down dark red shirt and a slim pair of white pants. He then summoned a comb and tried to tame his hair into something presentable.

Conjuring a mirror, Harry judged himself to be adequately put together, and made his way to the Parker's door.

_*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*_

* * *

_*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*_

"Peter! Can you get that?" May called out from her bedroom, where she was changing out of the stained, oniony clothes she wore when cooking.

"Got it!"

Peter ran to the door, nearly tripping up - thank god for spider enhanced reflexes to keep him from embarrassing himself.

His hair was still a little wet, and there were wet spots all over his gray sweater, so he was a little self-conscious. But he tried to shake it off and put on a smile as he opened the door to let their-

_‘Oh wow.’_

Standing in front of him was a fairly attractive guy around his height with a slim figure. He had the most striking green eyes. His black hair was wild and untamed, accentuating his face. He had prominent, sloping cheekbones, and pretty pink lips that accompanied a sharp, angular jaw. Peter also noticed a thin wiry scar above his right brow, just peeking out under his fringe.

"Hi, you must be Peter," the new neighbour - ' _what was his name again? Oh right, Harry'_ \- greeted Peter and stuck out his hand. "I'm Harry Potter. Umm, your aunt invited me to dinner?"

_‘That’s a really nice voice.’_

Tongue tied for a moment, Peter didn't immediately respond, making Harry falter and look uncertain.

_'Peter you idiot. Words. Say words!'_

"Hi," he let out, weakly.

 _*Cough*._ Peter cleared his throat and tried again, reaching out to shake the other boy’s hand. "Hi. Yeah I'm Peter Parker. It's nice to meet you Harry. Come in!"

Stepping back, Peter held the door open to let Harry slip inside, closing it behind him.

"It's nice to meet you too," Harry replied.

As they stepped into the living room Peter saw Harry look around, taking stock of the apartment. He felt a little self-conscious for some reason. He knew there wasn't really anything to be embarrassed by, but he still felt like they were being judged. He tried to shake it off and play a decent host. May would kill him otherwise.

"Here, take a seat," Peter ushered the guest to the sofa. He waited for Harry to sit down, and then plopped down on the opposite sofa.

"So…"

"So…" Harry echoed back.

"Uh, that's a cool accent. Where are you from?"

"I-"

"No wait, the accent thing is obvious. Uhhh, how old are you? No, um, are you really living alone? Is it because you don't have a family? Oh shit- fuck. I didn't mean to ask that." Peter's motormouth got away from him again. He honestly just wanted to ask a simple question as an icebreaker, but he was nervous, and well… good old Peter foot-in-mouth Parker did it again.

The poor guy sitting across just stared at him blankly. Peter didn't blame him. After a what seemed like an eternity, but was probably just a few seconds, he saw Harry open his mouth to speak - probably to yell at Peter for being a dick.

Thankfully his aunt saved him.

"Evening, Harry, welcome to our place," May greeted as she walked out of her room and stepped into view. "I hope Peter behaved himself."

Peter felt heat rush to his face and knew if he looked in a mirror he would be blushing.

"Hello Ms. Parker. Thank you for having me over," Harry greeted his aunt with a friendly smile. Then he looked back at Peter and his reddening cheeks and gave him a cheeky grin, "Don't worry, your nephew has been absolutely charming."

May snorted. "I'm sure he has. He's a regular smooth talker that one."

One had to be deaf not to hear the sarcasm in May's voice. His embarrassment washed away by indignation, Peter had to react.

"Hey! I'm not that bad!" he cried out. May burst out laughing in response, while Harry was more subdued, chuckling quietly.

"Well, as much fun as it is picking on Peter, I didn't cook all this food for nothing. Let's eat," May announced walking over to the kitchen and clapping her hands. "Peter, help me serve the food."

"Sure May."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Harry asked May.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. You’re our guest! Please, sit down, we’ll take care of everything,” she insisted, and had Peter usher him to a seat at the dining table.

* * *

The food was promptly served. It was a wonderful meal, starting with a garlic bread and bruschetta appetizer. The main course was a twist on spaghetti with meatballs, using basil spaghetti and chicken meatballs. And finally a lovely key lime pie for dessert. Harry made sure to complement May repeatedly for the wonderful food, to which she quipped that if Peter didn't start being so polite she might try to exchange the two.

Over the course of the meal the three engaged in small talk. The pair found out that Harry was 17, and when asked about school he told them he was still considering his options. Harry found out that May worked as an HR coordinator - something he'd have to look up later - in some technology company. In a sobering moment he also found out that her husband - Peter's uncle - had died three years ago, leaving her a single parent. He gave his condolences, telling them that he'd also recently lost family - his aunt and uncle. When Peter asked about his parents he was able to tell them the truth - they were murdered when he was a year old. That was another moment that put a dent in the light-hearted atmosphere of the dinner. Things got back on track when Harry started inquiring about Peter's life.

"So, Peter, you're in high school, right?" Peter nodded. "What year?"

"Yeah, I'm a sophomore at Midtown School of Science and Technology."

Harry had no clue what a sophomore was, but he knew Peter was sixteen, so that was good enough. "That sounds impressive. I'm guessing you're interested in those things then?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty good at physics, chemistry, and I'm pretty good at tech stuff too - you know, building hardware and coding."

"That sounds pretty cool. I'm only just getting the hang of technology myself. Can't get over these smartphone things, I got one last week, and just the other day I- what? Do I have something on my face?"

May and Peter were staring at Harry like he was an alien. He didn't understand why, all he said was that he- _'Oh. Good thing I've been preparing for this.'_

"Are you saying that you never used a smartphone until just last week!?" Peter exclaimed, looking at Harry like he had personally offended him.

"What do you mean getting used to tech?" May followed up. "That sounds like a lot more than just phones."

Harry sighed, and began telling them the story he had pieced together, "Well, to be honest my aunt and uncle weren't exactly normal people. When I was a child, they moved us from England to a reclusive community in Massachusetts, near Salem. I suppose they shared similarities with Amish folk, but not nearly as extreme. They were just very conservative with what was permissible and what wasn't permissible. For example, a fridge was fine but god help you if you got a mobile phone or a printer.”

Harry paused to take a sip of his drink.

“The head of the congregation was always preaching about how new technology was evil and corrupting the soul of America. It was quite a strange place, like society had stopped progressing in the early 90s."

His two hosts were definitely taken aback by the story - which was true, as far as Harry could tell. He still wasn't sure if the identity he assumed was created by magic or if the other Harry Potter was real. But from all the information he had, and some knowledge that just came to him as though by instinct, he had managed to piece together the background of his supposed life. It made sense in a way, the identity seemed perfectly crafted to explain away his deficiencies.

"Oh wow, that sounds like it was a- _different…_ lifestyle," May commented diplomatically.

Harry gave a small snort and chuckle. "No need to sugar coat it, the place was awful.” He paused, then admitted, “I tried to run away twice.”

That was actually true. Harry had tried twice to escape the Dursley’s. Once as a child, and once during the summer after his first year. It was a… _difficult_ time.

He continued, “but that was in the past…. and I've been loving New York since I got here last week."

The Parkers seemed lost for words. Harry didn’t blame them though. While much of his false background was true in its own way, he had deliberately crafted it to discourage anyone from prying further. Even if they were curious, he figured most people would avoid asking for more details, fearing that they would upset him.

In the end, May did exactly what Harry thought she'd do and moved past the topic - uncomfortable with delving further into such matters with a stranger.

"I'm glad you like it. It's not all freedom and roses though," she told him gently, pausing to take a sip of her water. “New York is pretty great, but it has more than its fair share of problems.”

"Oh I'll say. I read earlier there was a bloody alien attack here?"

May and Peter went still.

"I honestly thought it was a joke - it and the whole superhero thing - but Merlin's balls,” Harry exclaimed, “between the many articles and the videos, I basically had to believe it!"

Peter burst out laughing.

"Dude, did you say ‘Merlin's balls’?" he asked before Harry could keep going.

Harry blushed a little, caught off guard by someone calling out his wizarding profanity. It was a pretty regular part of his vocabulary, so it was bound to happen, but he wasn't sure how to explain it away.

"Uh, sorry. We… we had to be creative with the swearing back there?" he tried, hoping the hasty excuse would explain his strange language.

"Oh, right. So- sorry,” Peter apologised. “I, uh, shouldn't have laughed. It must be hard to adjust and stuff.."

Although Harry had no real reason to, he couldn’t help but feel bad at the sight of Peter’s contrite expression. He waved the apology away, telling the other teen that he wasn't offended at all and he understood it must have sounded funny to others.

By this point they were done with their meals, and May went to get the pie while Peter cleared the dishes. Again, Harry offered to help but Peter insisted that he not. A little later, while they were enjoying their desserts, May gave into her apparent curiosity and asked Harry how he could afford the apartment as a jobless 17 year old.

"Oh, I inherited some money from my parents, but I'm on a trust fund until I turn 18," he explained, scratching the back of his neck as he tried not to feel too awkward about money. He knew it was a sensitive topic for some people.

Luckily, May and Peter were completely unaffected by the news that their 17 year old neighbour was actually a trust fund baby. Harry was glad for that, though he didn’t take them for the type of people to judge him anyway.

After dessert was over Harry wondered if it was time to leave. He was just about to say goodbye when May spoke up.

"Hey, Peter, are you going to work on your internship stuff tonight?"

"Uh," Peter darted a quick glance at Harry. "Yeah why?"

"Oh I just thought you two could hang out a little," she shrugged. "Maybe get to know each other without your boring old aunt getting in the way."

"I mean," Peter seemed to think it over.

Harry was a little nervous at the idea himself, but Peter seemed nice enough. He wouldn't mind spending some more time with the other teen.

"I don't have to work on it until ten-ish…" Peter finally said, addressing Harry. “We could hang out until then?"

Harry nodded in agreement, glad to have a chance to enjoy company his own age - or close enough to it at least.

"Great! If you need me, I'll be reading a book in my room."

Then she was gone.

"So…"

"So…" Harry echoed back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter, it was a stubborn one. I meant to post it on Thursday but I kept finding things I wanted to change. Hopefully it was worth the wait ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> As always, I welcome feedback and constructive criticism, so feel free to comment on whether or not you liked it and why. It really does help me tweak the next chapter when I have something concrete to work on.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Cheers!


	4. Lost in the Feeling (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry enjoys his first movie, but the evening doesn't end as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** some mention of character death, not too detailed.  
> Big thanks to AxleBoost for looking over this chapter & helping with the editing.

"Uh, do you, um- do you want to watch a movie?" Peter asked. "Wait. You've seen a movie before, right? And TV? That's- That's not a new thing?

"It's been a while, but yes I have seen some movies before. We had a VHS player and some old tapes at home, and I used to watch them with my cousin," Harry replied, stretching the truth. In fact he did get a chance to watch some movies and TV shows, but only hiding behind the sofa while Dudley watched. Even then he didn't get to really enjoy it, keeping an ear out for his aunt and uncle as he was.

"Oh good," Peter looked relieved, then his eyes lit up and he grinned. "Oh man, there's so many movies you gotta see! Shit, what do I pick?"

"Honestly, I'd be happy with anything. Why don't you pick something you'd enjoy watching?"

That was how they ended up in the living room, sitting on the floor in front of the TV - bowl of popcorn in between them, watching a movie. Peter had wanted Harry to watch something called Star Wars, which sounded vaguely familiar. He thought Dean might have mentioned it once or twice back at Hogwarts. Peter ended up choosing something different though. Apparently, someone called Ned would be upset if Peter took his "Star Wars virginity alone", so they ended up watching the first Lord of the Rings movie.

Harry actually really liked the movie. The plot was intriguing and he enjoyed the depiction of magic and fantasy, it was like a gentle reminder of home.

They didn't say much throughout the movie, though Harry did notice Peter try to observe him discreetly at a lot of different points, as if trying to gauge his reaction. It was somewhat endearing. Harry usually disliked people staring at him, but in this case he didn't mind.

When the movie was over, Peter sprang up from his seat on the floor and turned to Harry.

"So, what did you think? It was awesome right?"

Harry nodded, busy uncrossing his legs and trying to stand without losing his balance. Two hours of sitting on the floor had done him no good. He replied to Peter, but only managed to get a few words in.

"Yeah it was great, I-"

"I knew it! What was your favourite scene? No, make that your favourite scenes? And how cool is Gandalf yeah?" Peter mimed holding a staff and sword. " _YOU SHALL NOT PASS_!"

"That scene with Gandalf taking down the Balrog was a standout, yes. But I'm not sure I could pick a favourite scene," Harry said diplomatically, watching the excited teen with no small amount of amusement. "It was a fairly long movie."

"Yeah I guess that makes sense," Peter replied. "I'm just glad you liked it. I wasn't sure about starting you off on a two-hour movie, but hey now we can watch the rest of the trilogy! Uhh, not now obviously. But definitely later! If… if you want to, I mean."

"Uh, sure." Harry really didn't have anything better to do. He'd agree to watch paint dry if it meant human company.

Peter beamed back at him. "Great! Can't wait dude, it'll be awesome!"

"I bet," Harry said, faintly amused at Peter's exuberance. "I'm sure it'll be _magical_."

Peter snickered at the pun, as did Harry - though it was for different reasons.

"Anyhow," Harry rolled his shoulders, trying to get rid of the tension that had built up over the last two hours. "I had better be going back home."

"Oh, let me walk you out then," Peter told him.

"Walk me out of this apartment?" Harry asked, bemused. He appreciated the politeness, but the door was right there.

"Yup, wouldn't want you to get lost."

"Get lost? In the almost identical apartment right across mine?" Harry crossed his arms, looking at Peter in amused exasperation.

"Yup. You gotta be careful." A mischievous smile lit up Peter's face.

"Hmmm, you might be right," the young wizard played along. "But I don't know if you're up for the job. Do you think May's still up?"

"May?" Peter squawked, prompting Harry to burst out laughing.

False outrage instantly erased, Peter joined in on the laughter, and the two boys had a nice end to the night - walking to the front door of the Parker apartment, with Harry making a teasing comment at Peter's reaction, and the surprisingly strong Peter shoving him for his efforts.

"Thanks again for the movie and popcorn, Peter. I had fun," Harry told Peter as he stepped out of the apartment and pulled out his keys.

"You're welcome. I had fun too man, can't wait to do it again." Peter replied, leaning against his own door frame.

"Do you have any plans tomorrow?" Harry asked, entering the flat but keeping the door open as he turned to Peter.

Peter bummed in thought. "Hmmmm... well, I've got some, uh, internship work I need to do, but I got some time, yeah. What's up?"

"I just thought we could, uh, hang out?"

Peter's eyes lit up. He nodded immediately. "Yeah, definitely! Do you wanna watch the next movie?"

"Sounds like a good plan to me. Will your aunt mind me being over again?"

"Dude, are you kidding? She won't mind, like, at all." Peter tried to reassure the young Brit. "Besides with me busy with my, uh, work, she's been nagging at me to spend more time at home and doing other stuff."

"What is it you do anyway? You mentioned an internship?"

"Oh yeah, I’m an intern at Stark Industries," Peter told him, sounding a little off. Harry couldn't place what it was though. "It's mostly just science stuff. I do a bunch of… um, menial work for the research and development department. Oh! And sometimes they let me experiment and invent stuff!"

"Oh that sounds pretty cool! Wait," Harry tried to remember why that name sounded so familiar. "Stark! Isn't that the superhero guy?"

"Yeah. Iron Man! He's so cool isn't he? I actually got to meet him, you know?"

"Wow. I'm still struggling to believe that he's - that any of those superheroes are real."

"Yeah, I guess it's a shock huh?"

"I'll say. Though Iron Man I get, he's just tech - amazing tech that's far beyond my understanding, to be sure, but still just tech. I find myself more surprised by the… _supernatural_ ones. I would have thought people would be panicking a lot more about magic being real?"

"Magic? I guess that's one way to describe some of them." Peter said, gripping his chin in thought.

"How else would you describe that red witch woman?"

"Scarlet Witch?" Peter asked, Harry nodding in response. "I guess some people might call it molecular manipulation. It's a sort of telekinetic force that manifests in different ways. It's physics, but yeah most people probably do see it as magic."

"How is that not magic?" a bewildered Harry asked.

"I'm not an expert dude, but uhhh… look it just isn't. Magic is like witches and wands and fairies and stuff. This is all just really advanced science. Look at Hulk. Show him to someone in medieval times and he'd totally be seen as like an magical abomination, but we know he was a product of gamma radiation."

"What about that Loki fella?" Harry pressed. The Hulk example was true but he was not yet convinced by Peter's logic. By all appearances there did appear to be some examples of magic in this universe, even if not recognised as such. Surely it wasn't all some sort of technology.

"I don't know. Asgardian science?"

Harry gave up. It seemed that the technological prowess of muggles in this world had conditioned them to look to unexplained scientific phenomena first and foremost. He wondered if wizards did still exist in this world, but simply disguised themselves as technologically advanced people. This Asgard had apparently existed for a long time, but a small part of Harry thought that wizarding kind had simply escaped to another realm, such as Asgard.

He didn't have a lick of proof to support such fanciful theories, however, so he shrugged it off.

"And these unexplained powers, like Scarlet Witch's ones, they don't scare people?" he asked Peter.

"Well, it scares some people I guess… There was that whole mess in Nigeria, then the accords stuff, but I think most people are chill with the whole superhero thing." Peter snorted. "Most of them have fan clubs."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"That's… actually not surprising," Harry admitted as he considered the way wizards, when they weren't busy cursing his name, celebrated him for his heroism. Why would actual superheroes not get the same reaction from muggles?

Still, the conversation gave him some things to think about.

Saying goodnight to Peter, and receiving a goodnight in return, Harry stepped back into his apartment and closed the door.

He checked the time. It was 10:40pm.

He supposed it was time for bed. It had been a long day. He thought he'd be out instantly when he collapsed into bed, but it wasn't that easy.

After a week of being trapped in this world, he was finally in the safety of a place he could call home. That should have meant warmth and comfort, but the memories of the dead had been kept at bay for long enough.

At first it was innocent, he thought about the day's events and about the two new people that had entered his life.

May was warm and nurturing, in a way that made him smile even as it broke his heart. She reminded him of Mrs. Weasley. They weren't even that similar, but apparently anyone motherly was enough to bring the deceased Weasley matriarch to mind.

To say nothing of her nephew.

Having only known the other boy for a few hours, Harry was surprised by how quickly he warmed up to Peter. They'd only just met, but Harry honestly felt like they could be good friends in the future. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself - latching on to the first potential friend after several months of isolation followed by the strain of adjusting to a new world.

Still, something inside him told him it was more than that. It reminded him of that day he met Ron on the train - how he knew the scruffy ginger boy was going to be his friend.

_'Ron…'_ Harry winced.

Even three months after the battle, Harry still found his breaths faltering and his eyes aching, heavy with the weight of his feelings. He tried to keep the swelling wave of emotion in check, wanting to just curl up and fall asleep.

But it was no use.

The dam broke.

Harry sat up in his bed, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

He rocked back and forth, tears streaming down his face. Gone were the ambient noises of the city, giving way to the sound of his heaving breaths and muffled sobbing.

Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, Remus, Tonks, and many more. He could see their faces as clear as day, flickering and changing. One moment it was Remus smiling at him in an empty classroom, the next it was the werewolf's dead body on the battlefield. One moment it was Hermione smiling at something stupid but endearing that Ron had said, the next it was their cold corpses, splayed out on the ground.

It kept going - more and more memories, all tainted with the grief he felt. No matter what, he couldn't stop seeing the dead.  It was as though they were reaching out for him and trying to drag him down into the deep dark depths with them. A large part of him wished for that to be the case - wished that he hadn't returned from death at all that night.  A small part of him knew he was wrong, though; he knew that his friends and family would want him to live.

If only they could tell him so in person.

Eventually, as the clock neared midnight, exhaustion caught up with Harry. He was so tired and he needed rest.

As he settled into bed, flipping the pillow over to avoid the damp spots where his tears had landed, he found himself thinking. As awful as the last hour had been, Harry found that he was a little glad to be able to let it all out. He had done his best to ignore his sadness over the last week, focusing only on the current challenge, but he was a mess of emotions and he knew it.

Losing his friends, his adoptive family, it… it was crushing, to say the least. Back in his world there were days where he didn't get out of bed, wishing he could just rot away and join them in the afterlife. Then there were days when the grief wasn't so bad, where he could smile, laugh, and pretend that everything was okay.

Even on the good days though, Harry was still lonely.

So, whatever his reasons for warming up to Peter so quickly, he hoped it worked out and blossomed into a true and strong friendship.

* * *

Harry woke up the next day, around seven in the morning.

He started his day with a shower, trying very hard not to dwell on the dark thoughts that plagued him before he slept and in his dreams. Under the cover of the scalding spray, he rebuilt his emotional barriers. Even as he went through the motions of cleaning himself, he was gathering all the hurt, the pain, the grief, and using occlumency to clear his mind and shove it all back behind some mental barriers.

Afterwards, he got dressed and had a simple breakfast. With nothing else to do at this time, Harry decided to get back to his reading. He snatched his phone from his bedside table and made himself comfortable in the living room.

Harry followed the events following the alien invasion - going through all the major events, culminating in what was described only as a civil war between the Avengers last year. As he read through the events of the past year in particular, Harry understood what Peter meant by the incident in Nigeria and the Accords.

Personally, it didn't sit well with him that those with abnormal abilities were being forced to register to government entities. Not after those months with the death eaters in control of the ministry.

By the time it was eight thirty, Harry felt reasonably caught up, though he would probably need several refreshers. It was difficult to remember the names of all those superheroes, let alone the other information.

He still had a lot of time to kill, so Harry decided to play around with his magic. He grabbed the elder wand from its place on his nightstand.

"Let's see what makes you tick," he told it.

Casting a few harmless spells, Harry once again noticed how easily his magic rushed through the wand. It felt like it was helping him, drawing his magic out to cast spells more easily, even as it used up less energy than he was used to. And yet, he couldn't detect anything different about the wand, to explain its behaviour.

He felt like he should be more alarmed, but it felt almost _right_ to use the wand. Briefly, he wondered if it was this feeling that made its many previous owners so covetous of the wand. He shook the thought off, reminding himself that people sought it out for its destructive capacity, not because of a strange fuzzy feeling.

He spent some more time playing around. Currently he was stretching his magic throughout the apartment, pushing and pulling, getting used to how it followed his commands more easily. His magic was so much heavier on the air than he was used to.

One could almost describe it as tangible.

Idly, he wondered how a muggle would react to the feeling. As heavy, almost tangible even, as it was, he wondered if even muggles - as oblivious to magic as they were - might sense a hint of something in the air if he let it loose.

Drawing his magic back into himself, Harry decided to go out and do something productive with his day. He and Peter had plans, but they never arranged a time. It was twenty past nine presently, so he figured it was safe to go knocking across the hall.

Transfiguring his clothes into a black sweater and grey jeans, Harry stepped out of his apartment. He locked the door and took the two steps to the Parkers' door, giving it a few knocks.

Less than a minute later, he was greeted by a still groggy Peter. The younger teenager stood in the doorway wearing a pair of nondescript grey shorts and a much too big t-shirt that was almost sliding off his right shoulder. Again, Harry marvelled at how fit Peter was. He had a sort of bookish look and had expressed no interest in sports the other night, but looking at the teenager standing in the doorway, it was clear that he was rather athletic.

"Good morning Peter." he greeted the bloke with a bright smile.

"Mornin'," Peter yawned. "You're not here for the movie, are you? It's sooo earlyyy."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I wake you up with my knocking?"

Peter shook his head. "Nah, I got up like 10 minutes ago. Just not fully awake, you know?"

"Oh. Well, that's a relief. As it is, I just stopped by so we could figure out a time, and maybe we could exchange our phone numbers?"

"Uh, sure. My phone's in my room, so let me just give you my number and you can send me a text or a missed call."

Harry handed his phone to Peter, who was looking more awake at this point. The other teen swiftly saved his contact information on Harry's phone. He took the initiative of sending himself a text right then, then handed the phone back.

"What's with that look?" Harry inquired, taking note of the mildly disgruntled look on Peter's face as Harry placed his phone back in his pocket.

"Nothing!" Peter blurted out. At Harry's sceptical look, Peter sheepishly looked down for a moment and rubbed the back of his head. "It's just that, well, uh, your apps are a mess. Like holy shit dude, I know you're new to this, but this is how an 80 year old's phone would look."

Harry didn't know how to respond to that. What was wrong with his apps? He took his phone out again, and tried to figure out what was wrong with his home screen.

"I don't get it, what's wrong with it?" he asked, feeling like there was a giant 'clueless' sign flashing over his head.

A product of his generation, Peter was quick to snatch Harry's phone and start fixing it for him. Harry watched as Peter dragged apps off screen, saying Harry didn't need them, and rearranged the remaining ones. He also changed some settings to make the phone more convenient for Harry, who nodded along to Peter's explanations even though he was completely lost.

Harry got his phone back from the satisfied looking American teenager, and truthfully he barely noticed the difference. There were less apps, but what difference did it make? But if it made him stand out, he guessed he was glad that Peter fixed it.

"So, what time do you want to, uh, hang out today?" Harry asked.

"How about five-ish?" Peter suggested. "I should have all my stuff done and I'll be free until… like ten? Or maybe… No. Yeah- ten. I'm free from five till ten."

"Perfect, I'll see you around five then."

They said their goodbyes, and Harry made his way out of the building while Peter retreated into his apartment to start his own day.

Outside, the sun was still rising in the bright blue sky, with only a few clouds scattered about. Coupled with the cool breeze, it made for a nice change from that grey British weather he was used to. He wandered for an hour before stumbling into a large shopping mall.

Harry ended up spending a few hours there. He later walked out carrying a bag full of shopping - or rather, he appeared to be carrying one bag.

In actuality he was carrying twelve bags, eleven of which were discretely shrunken down, covered with a stasis charm, and placed in the remaining bag. He had tried to limit his purchases, mindful of his bank account, but stepping into that mall made him feel like his first time in Diagon Alley. Only this time, he was older and not as shy about spending money, so he might have gotten a bit carried away.

In the end, he walked out with a full wardrobe of muggle clothes; Harry also purchased a variety of furniture and knick knacks to decorate his apartment with; and a visit to the supermarket - which was bloody huge - had him stock up on enough groceries to feed the Weasleys for a week.

The clothes shopping was the most entertaining part, to Harry's surprise. He never expected to enjoy shopping in general, uncomfortable as he used to be with spending money. The shop assistants were all quite eager to help him when he told them how much he was looking to buy, particularly one lady at a fancier, more expensive store who whispered to her friend about a 'big fat commission'.

It was around three in the afternoon by the time Harry stepped out of the mall, so he decided to walk back home. He could have apparated there, but he quite enjoyed walking and taking in the sights. They were no breath-taking vistas, but something about the streets of Queens still appealed to him. Despite technically being a resident now, Harry was still very much in the tourist mind-set.

_'I should have done this back home,'_ he mused. He had never considered using the muggle world as an escape back in his world. There, Harry had become a recluse, rarely leaving his house for fear of being mobbed by the eager public. He'd also needed time for his mourning, following the loss of his friends.

He was still mourning, in fact, as last night had proven.

Earlier, in the mall, he saw a stocky, tall man with red hair and his face lit up. His arm twitched and he was about to call out to his best friend. Before he made a fool of himself though, his mind caught up with him and he felt like his body became rooted in place as he heard the sound of Ron's final scream.

And twice today he walked past a bookstore and was reminded of Hermione. Warmth enveloped his body as he remembered her beautiful satisfied smile when she finished a book. Then his memories shifted to her final moments, bleeding out after five death eaters had ambushed her at the battle. The image of her dead body in his mind's eye was awful. He felt like a pit had opened up in his gut, threatening to swallow him whole.

He tried not to think about them too much, aiming to leave it all for the safety of the dark and comfort of his own bedroom. His occlumency barriers helped greatly, but it seemed like those thoughts were determined to slip through.

Thankfully, present events served as a good distraction most of the time, allowing him to avoid sinking into melancholy.

He supposed he was… _grateful_ for winding up in this world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the long wait, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Thank you to everyone who gave kudos, bookmarked, and commented! 
> 
> As always, I hope you'll let me know what you thought of this chapter, and thank you for reading. Cheers!


	5. Lost in the Feeling (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry spends more time with his new neighbour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to AxleBoost for looking over this chapter & helping with the editing.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy reading it!

The fresh air on the walk back did him some good. Harry found himself able to put his dark thoughts to a temporary rest and enjoy the scenery as he walked back to his apartment. By the time he made it to the front door, the sun was well past its peak, starting its descent.

Harry had an hour to kill till he dropped by Peter's again, so he spent that time sorting out all of the stuff he bought.

He left the groceries on the kitchen counters, still under the effect of the stasis charm.

The clothes were then magically cleaned & levitated into the now full wardrobe. Harry felt quite satisfied at the large and varied selection of clothes that he now owned. He’d lived off of Dudley's old, oversized clothes for so long that even when he had the chance, he never went out of his way to buy more than a shirt or a pair of pants here and there. It felt freeing to have a wardrobe full of  _ his _ own clothes that  _ he _ was responsible for picking out.

Afterwards, he spent time arranging his new furniture. Small knick knacks were scattered around the apartment - lamps placed on the nightstands beside his bed; a miniature owl sculpture on the dresser; flower pots haphazardly arranged on living room surfaces; and more.

The place looked a lot more lived in when he was done. He just needed to remember to go to the florist sometime soon. Those empty vases he bought on a whim were crying out to be filled, and while he could conjure a few types of flowers, he thought it might be nice to have a more varied selection.

Stopping in his tracks, Harry scoffed to himself. _‘Merlin. I’m standing here thinking about flowers of all things.’_

He shook his head.

_ ‘I cannot believe this is what my life is now.’ _

Harry appreciated how domestic the past two days had been, but he still felt a little on edge. Not knowing why he was in this world was a source of stress that refused to dissipate. At times he could unwind for a short while and enjoy the normality of it all, but it wouldn't be long before the questions returned - gnawing at him like an itch he couldn’t reach or buzzing around like a particularly persistent fly.

In all honesty, Harry felt disinclined to search for any hidden wizards in this world. All signs pointed to them either hiding or not existing, and the fact that he'd somehow been able to assume the identity of a decidedly muggle version of himself was a strong indicator that this world might be one without any magic.

That said, he was unsure how the superheroes played into it.

If parallel universes were real and this was one… could it be that instead of wizards and magical creatures, this world was populated by superhumans instead?

The thought seemed absurd, but a small voice in his head that sounded decidedly like Hermione seemed to be saying yes.

Harry tabled that thought for a later time; it was almost time to meet up with Peter. He wondered if he should take anything with him. Looking at the bags of groceries he'd left sitting on the counter, Harry decided that an offering of food might have to wait for another time.

With a shrug, he walked out of the apartment, locking the door behind him, and knocked on the Parkers’ door.

* * *

"Hey, you made it," Peter smiled, opening the door to let his guest in.

"I did," Harry replied with a smirk. "It was a long, hard road, but I managed to survive the journey."

Peter laughed and welcomed Harry into the living room, where he already had the next Lord of the Rings movie paused at the start. Harry took a seat on a couch, facing Peter.

"So how was your day?" Peter asked, wondering what the other guy had been up to in the hours since their morning meeting.

Harry beamed and he sat up straighter. "I went shopping!" he declared.

"Oh nice. What'd you get?" Peter asked. Harry's grin was infectious and he found himself smiling in kind.

"Uh clothes, furniture, decorations, food," Harry listed off his purchases one by one, counting with his fingers. "I got just about everything I need, and it was a fair bit given that I moved with barely anything."

"That's great!" Peter replied, glad to see his new neighbour was settling in. "Surprised you managed to fit all that in one day though," he noted, tilting his head slightly.

"Oh, uh, well…I suppose I'm just a bit of a shopping wizard." Harry snickered. Peter wasn't sure what the joke was but he laughed along anyway. "Anyhow, how was your day?"

"It was fine. I didn't get up to much," Peter replied. "I just did some chores for Aunt May, worked on some homework for my summer courses, and uhh… did some stuff for my internship."

Now, Peter didn't _lie_ exactly . He just neglected to mention that the internship in question involved him being a superhero and swinging through the streets of New York. He had a pretty productive day. He stopped two muggings, helped the police with a car chase, and stopped an armed bank robbery. All in a day's work for New York's friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man.

"What subjects do you study, by the way?" Harry asked curiously.

"Oh uh, the usual stuff. Junior year’s still like a month away, but uh, I take AP classes, and I'm on the decathlon team, cause I'm apparently a masochist," Peter half joked. The AP classes weren't too hard, but the workload was annoying sometimes. Unfortunately he couldn't tell his teachers 'Oh, sorry. Can't do the homework, I'm busy being that Spider-Man guy.' 

"I have no clue what either of those things are," Harry admitted, which was weird. He knew that Harry had a weird half-Amish background but he still went to high school, right? He should probably ask at some point. "It does sound like you do a lot though. How do you cope?"

"I like keeping busy I guess, but it can be hard. May was pretty great at helping me balance everything out. If it wasn't for her keeping me, like, on track… my GPA would have dropped and I would have had to quit the decathlon team for sure…" Peter trailed off, flashing back to the mess with Liz’s dad last year. He continued moments later, speaking more to himself than Harry, "I owe her a lot."

Words couldn't describe how much Peter loved his aunt. She was there for him through everything. After uncle Ben died, she was the glue that held their broken little family together. She lost her husband - the love of her life, but somehow she kept it together for Peter's sake. He couldn't even begin to understand how she managed it. She was just so strong.

"You two are lucky to have each other," Harry told Peter, a wistful smile on his face.

Peter glanced at Harry for a moment - his eyes searching, wondering - then nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we are."

The mood had gotten pretty serious so Peter sighed and decided to move things along.

He looked at the TV to his right, and clapped his hands to catch Harry's attention. "Anyway," Peter said, as he slid off the couch. "There's a movie that's waiting to be seen, and we won't get through it being all serious."

He grabbed the remote and a cushion with him, and shuffled forward to sit himself in front of the TV. 

"Let's get to it then," Harry said, joining him on the floor.

Peter pointed the remote at the DVD player and pressed play.

"Get ready for three hours of greatness," he told Harry. "Hell, we can even watch the extended cut and make it three and half hours. You down?"

"Uhh, sure."

Peter grinned. Time for three and a half hours of Tolkien greatness.

* * *

The two movies were very good, Harry had to admit as the credits of the second movie rolled. It was quite impressive, and he was astounded at the lengths muggle cinematography and - as Peter called it - CGI technology was able to reach.

He wished he could show some scenes to people back at Hogwarts. He could probably convince them it was real footage.

It was night time, and both boys were hungry, so Peter suggested going out to get Chinese food from a local place. They left the apartment building and walked a few blocks to the west, ending up at this small, almost hidden, shoebox of a restaurant. Harry would never have even noticed this hole in the wall place, what with the broken, illegible sign hanging above, if not for Peter pointing right at it.

Entering the place, they were instantly blasted with the smell of the food. Harry was instantly in love with the myriad aromas lingering heavy in the air; the ginger, the caramelised sugars, and the unfamiliar seasonings stood out most of all.

"Merlin," he told Peter, feeling slightly dazed, "I hope the food tastes half as good as it smells."

"It tastes even better than it smells, don't you worry man," Peter replied with a chuckle, amused at Harry's reaction. "Have you ever had Chinese food before?"

Harry shook his head. "I had some sort of Asian inspired beef dish from hotel room service last week, but it wasn't particularly great. None of the food was to be honest, I was rather disappointed."

Though perhaps he was spoiled by the food at Hogwarts. Those house elves definitely knew how to cook.

"Well you're in for a treat," Peter said.

The small restaurant only had five small tables for people to dine in, three of which were occupied. The pair of teenagers walked up to the counter, where an Asian man was on the phone, scribbling on a piece of paper and barking orders at the kitchen.

"Hsin! My man!" Peter greeted the evidently familiar man when he was done jotting down the customers order.

"Peter!" the man - Hsin, returned the greeting enthusiastically. "Can't stay away for long, ah? Where's that aunt of yours? And who's this guy?"

"Well when you keep making food this good, how's a growing boy supposed to stay away?" Peter replied with a teasing grin. "May's having a girls day out with her friends, and this is Harry." Peter pointed at him.. "He just moved in next door and it's his first time trying proper Chinese food. So you better not disappoint, eh?"

"Disappoint? Never! You see the state of this dump? If we don't got good food, we got nothin'. Lucky for you," Hsin winked at Peter, then turned his attention to Harry, who was feeling increasingly out of place. "And you. You for real? Ya never had Chinese food?"

Harry nodded.

"Well damn!"

Hsin turned towards the open window into the kitchen.

"Hey guys, we got a chǔnǚ over here! Next order's gotta be perfect!" he called out to the kitchen staff. He then turned back to the two teenagers and asked, "So, what'll ya be having?"

Harry had no idea what a ‘cho nye’ was, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. As for the food, he had no clue what anything was and no real preferences so he let Peter pick out a selection of food; Harry insisted on paying, though.

"What? No! It was my idea to come here. Plus, I ordered an extra dish for May. I can't let you pay for us!" Peter protested.

Harry wasn't having it. "Nah mate, you've already had me over for dinner and for movies. This is the least I could do. I insist."

They squabbled over the issue for a little while longer until Hsin cleared his throat, getting their attention.

"This one's on the house, boys," he told them. They both started protesting but he cut them off. "Order's already in and unless you can force open the register, you ain't paying for shit. Consider it a bonus for being such a loyal customer, Petey boy. Plus," he gestured at Harry, "it's not every day we get a chǔnǚ."

"What's a cho nye?" Harry asked warily, trying not to butcher the pronunciation. He had a strong feeling he wouldn't like the answer, but was unable to resist asking this time.

"A virgin!" a cook called out from behind Hsin, having been passing by the window connecting the front and the kitchen.

Harry was mortified. He felt his face heat up as blood rushed to his cheeks and they turned pink. He couldn’t believe this man just publicly called him a virgin - no matter how true - in any sense of the word.

In the corner of his eye he could tell Peter was trying very hard not to laugh at him. He might have appreciated the effort if it had actually worked. But Peter only managed to hold himself back for all of four seconds before he burst out laughing, the absolute prick.

Then to make it worse, when he got his laughter under control Peter reached over and patted Harry on the back. "Well, I guess it's time to, uh, pop your cherry,” the insufferable twat teased.

Merlin help him. Harry felt his cheeks get even hotter, even as he cursed Peter in his head. The tosser was lucky Harry wasn’t keen on revealing his powers, or he’d hit him with one hell of a stinging hex. Unfortunately that wasn’t an option. So, trying to regain his dignity, Harry shook his head and swatted Peter's hand away.

"This food better be amazing or I will end you, Parker," he told the other boy with a semi-playful glare.

They ended up taking a seat at a free table by the door, and chatted aimlessly while waiting for their food.

"So you never went to a mall before?" Peter asked. He had inquired about Harry's day during the course of the conversation.

"No, never. The place I lived in wasn't big enough to need a mall."

"Wow, how small was this place?"

"Quite small," Harry replied, thinking fondly of Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. "It was more of a large village than a town.”

"Huh, I can't imagine what that's like. I've always lived here so I, uh, I guess I'm used to how crowded and big everything is." Peter then tilted his head ever so slightly and leaned in closer to Harry. "How are you dealing with everything?” he asked softly. “I know you said you've been enjoying the city, but it's still new, and like, New York’s a big place, so uh... if you need any help getting around - or with, um, anything else… I'll do it. I mean, I'd be happy to help with whatever."

Harry could only blink in surprise as he tried to wrap his mind around the incredibly earnest offer of assistance. In those passing seconds Peter retreated and started nervously playing with the locks of hair at the back of his head. His wide brown eyes and sheepish look made for an endearingly vulnerable picture.

"Thank you Peter, I appreciate the offer. Really," Harry told him with a small smile. "I'm still getting used to this place, but it's good to know I have someone to count on."

And Harry truly meant that.

Something about Peter was so very honest and genuine that Harry couldn't help but respond to it. He found himself starting to trust his new neighbour a little. And trust was a rarity in his life, given how often he had been betrayed, the environment he grew up in, and how fickle most wizards had proven themselves to be.  When Harry lost the few people in his world he truly loved and cared for, there was a strong part of him that thought he would never be able to trust and believe in another person again. It was early days yet, but it would be good to be proven wrong, he thought.

A minute or two passed in silence afterwards. Harry didn’t really have anything to say, and for whatever reason Peter was quiet also.

Not content to leave the conversation to wither and die, Harry spoke up. "Hmm, well there is one thing you could help me with," he said, catching Peter’s attention. "I do want to get my hands on a television and some of those devices that go with it, like the one you have."

"Oh! Yeah, sure, I can help you out!" Peter agreed, with no small amount of eagerness. "Oh man, how much do you want to spend on this stuff? There's so many choices! There's the-"

Peter went on to list names, letters and numbers that made Harry's head spin. The young wizard had to interrupt him and remind Peter that none of what he said had any meaning to someone like him.

"Sorry, I'm kind of an… uh, enthusiast when it comes to this stuff," Peter apologised.

"Don't worry about it,” Harry reassured him. “I'm feeling even better about asking you now. You obviously know all about these matters. Besides, maybe you can teach me whenever we go shopping."

The pair ended up making plans to go shopping in two days - on Tuesday, around noon. It was still summer break, so Peter didn't have a rigid schedule but he did have some online courses and internship work that got in the way.

Small talk was made for another few minutes, until Hsin walked over with two brown paper bags filled with boxes of Chinese food. They thanked him profusely as he handed them the takeout, and after saying their goodbyes, they were on their way back to their apartment building.

They ended up settling on the Parker apartment, eating on the living room coffee table and watching a comedy special on a tv channel called Netflix. Peter had to get Harry some cutlery, seeing as he had no clue how to use chopsticks.

"This is sooo good," Harry breathed out, shovelling chow mein into his mouth with a fork.

Peter grinned, delighted by Harry's enjoyment of this new type of food.

"You haven't even tried the fried dumplings or the Mongolian beef yet. Here," he grabbed the box of dumplings and held it out for Harry. "Try a piece."

Harry's eyes lit up as he speared a dumpling and brought it to his mouth. "Mmmmm," he moaned loudly as he bit into it and tasted the wonderful flavours of the chicken, ginger, and herbs.

When Harry had swallowed, he looked back at Peter and saw that his lips were parted and his cheeks had taken on a rosy pink colour. He wondered if Peter had accidentally bitten into a chilli pepper.

He put down his fork and grabbed a bottle of water, offering it to Peter, but the other boy shook his head and looked away, saying he was fine. Harry shrugged and picked his fork back up, eating the rest of the dumpling.

"I have to say," Harry said after swallowing his mouthful, "I miss home somewhat, but with food like this available, I don't think I ever want to go back."

Harry was joking of course.

Sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap on chapter 5. Hope you enjoyed it! The plot starts to move a little from here on out, but I definitely plan to include a good amount of character interaction throughout the fic.
> 
> As always, thank you so much to everyone who commented on the last chapter! I'm looking forward to hearing what you thought about this one! Cheers!


	6. A Trick of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Peter go shopping. Harry has a saviour complex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to [AxleBoost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxleBoost) for looking over this chapter & helping with the editing.

"So what time are you gonna be done helping that guy shop?" a voice came through the speakers of Peter's phone.

"I'm not sure," Peter answered, head bowed in concentration as he tried to focus. "We're meeting up around noon and I'm taking him to that big place on 17th, in Manhattan, but I don’t know how long it'll take. I'd call him and postpone it, but I already did that last week and I don't want to be rude."

They were meant to get it done last Tuesday, but Spider-Man business came up. Peter ended up making an excuse and they ended up rescheduling for the following Tuesday - which was today. Only Peter forgot and agreed to let Ned come over that day.

"That’s fair. I can just come over later, like at six or seven,” Ned told his best friend. They were going to build the new Star Wars Lego set Ned got from his Grandma. It was a First Order Star Destroyer with over 1400 pieces, and Peter knew Ned was just bursting at the seams to see it come to life.

"...Peter you there? Did I disconnect?"

"Shit, sorry Ned. Got distracted by something," Peter finally responded. "Yeah six is good. We'll be done way before that, and it'll give me a chance to get some patrolling done."

Peter received Ned's affirmation and then said his goodbyes and hung up.

He would normally spend more time talking to his best friend, but he was pretty caught up in his current project. If his calculations were right, Peter had figured out a way to increase the pressure used to propel the web, and with Karen's help he was interfacing with his workstation at Mr. Stark's spare lab and making changes to the schematics. When he was done she would have it 3D printed and sent to him in a secure location.

He was just finishing up when he was startled by a knock on his door.

"Peter, it's me! Erm, Harry, that is! May let me in," he heard Harry's voice call out.

Peter quickly shut down the projected interface, panicking at Harry's earlier than expected arrival. He wasn't even sure the door was locked - fuck.

"Just a second!" he yelled back, darting out of his chair and scrambling to stash his Spider-Man gear away. The last thing he needed was for someone else to find out about his identity.

When he was sure he was safe, he opened the door - noting that it wasn't locked and kicking himself for it.

‘ _Note to self: lock door, or tell May when I’m doing Spidey stuff.’_

On the other side of the door, Harry was standing in the hallway, dressed in a skinny pair of jeans and a form fitting striped sweater. It was a good look, and Peter couldn't help but admire the way he made it work.

He felt a little self conscious, what with Harry looking like that while he was in sweat pants and a raggy old t-shirt.

"G’day Peter," Harry greeted with a friendly smile.

"Hey Harry," Peter replied. "Aren't you a little early?"

Harry's face scrunched up. "Oh am I? I didn't think I was..." He pulled out his phone, checking the time. "No, I'm right on time, it's noon. See?" Harry outstretched his arm, holding the phone to Peter's face.

"Oh shit. I guess I lost track of time, sorry," Peter rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "It's fine though, I just need a few minutes to get ready. Won’t take long."

He told Harry to take a seat in the living room, then rushed back to his room and, in what could only be described as a whirlwind of activity, changed into something more presentable.

"Alright I'm ready, let's go!"

* * *

  
  


They took a cab to Manhattan.

The ride was about half an hour long, which gave the two time to chat. They'd gotten to know each other better over the last week, spending a little time in either apartment each day. Harry had even joined Peter and May for a game of Monopoly one night.

That hadn't gone well - he was bankrupt within half an hour and had to take loans from a very predatory May Parker who made him team up with her against Peter. Peter still won though, somehow managing to roll near exactly what he needed most of the time. May kept calling him out for cheating but Harry had no clue how Peter would have cheated.

It had only been about a week and a half since they met, but Harry was comfortable calling Peter a friend by now - and vice versa, he hoped.

After some time spent navigating the chaotic streets of Manhattan, the cab pulled up at the side of a road. The cab driver turned back and said, "Sorry boys, this is as close as I can get ya. The road’s blocked." He pointed at the road ahead. There was some sort of construction or renovation being done. "Could take you another way but traffic’s insane. Walk a couple of blocks from here & you'll get there in no time."

They thanked the cab driver and Harry paid him his fare and tip.

He had no clue where to go so he let Peter pull him along. They walked through the crowded streets, weaving their way through the locals and tourists, for about five minutes. Peter stopped Harry when they arrived at a large electronics store.

It was a rather impressive place, but he wondered why Peter brought him all the way here instead of a closer store. So he asked just that and Peter explained that this place was one of the best in terms of both price and selection. To be honest, Harry didn't see why he'd need so many televisions to pick from, but Peter seemed excited so… _might as well?_

What followed was a half an hour of Peter looking over many televisions in such precise detail that Harry actually managed to pick up a surprising amount of information just by listening passively. At some point the sales assistants stopped coming over to offer their help, realising that Peter was well past being an informed customer.

Harry only had two requirements - he wanted it to be reasonably priced and not small. Everything else was up to Peter.

After a while Harry wandered off to look at some of the other products available. He was amazed at all that he saw, ooh-ing and aww-ing at all sorts of things. At some point he wandered into a section where two kids appeared to be playing a game.

It sort of reminded Harry of Dudley's Playstation that he was never allowed to use. In fact, there was a Playstation console right there, though it looked quite different. Harry walked around the section feeling quite tempted by the idea of having his own video game console for once. Everything seemed affordable but he decided not to buy anything without Peter's input.

He went back to find Peter, but he got lost and went the wrong way. He was about to cast a _Point Me_ when he was briefly distracted by the laptop section. They were quite common in the television shows he chanced a glimpse of, and he knew May had one, so maybe it would be a good purchase. He made a note to ask Peter about that as well.

Eventually Harry managed to find the other bloke. He was standing over a large cardboard box, looking proud of himself.

Peter's face lit up when he saw Harry. He gestured at the box and gave it a solid pat.

"Harry! I got the perfect TV for you! It's a 4K, HDR compatible smart TV - it comes with-" Peter started to rattle off features at a speed Harry couldn't keep up with, so he just nodded his head and made affirming hmm noises when needed.

"Sounds perfect Peter, thanks for picking it out," he said, when Peter was done talking. The price was surprisingly low - thank god for sales - and the television was fairly big, plus it had Peter’s seal of approval, so Harry was pleased.

"You're welcome dude," Peter replied. “I actually had fun picking one out and actually getting to buy it for once - or well, you’re buying it, but still,” Peter chuckled and shrugged. “Our TV at home was free from a timeshare seminar aunt May went to, so didn’t really get a say in that one.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself then,” Harry said, receiving a bashful grin from Peter. “Besides, it’s not like you won’t get any use out of it,” he added.

“What do you mean?”

Harry rolled his eyes and gave Peter a cheeky grin. “Oh my mistake. I must have mistaken you for the _other_ bloke lounging around my flat every other day,” he teased, drawing a laugh out of said bloke.

“Fair. Fair.”

Having picked out what they came for, Peter was looking for an employee to flag down, when Harry surprised him by asking about video-game consoles and laptops. That led to another rabbit hole where Peter had to explain the differences between the different devices to a clueless Harry whose last experience was a console from the 90s.

In the end Harry walked away with a Playstation console and three games that Peter picked out. Then they stopped by the laptop section where Peter picked out an inexpensive notebook that he said would suit Harry’s needs - or lack thereof - well enough.

The cashier lines were pretty small when they pulled up, so it wasn't long before everything was paid for and scheduled for delivery.

 _'Well that was an interesting experience,'_ Harry mused as they walked out of the store and back onto the streets.

It was past two in the afternoon by now. Harry felt a little bad for taking up so much of Peter's time. He knew he could have tried doing the research on his own, but it was a lot easier and less frustrating to have Peter with him.

He decided to pay Peter back by treating him to some food at one of the nice looking restaurants surrounding them, before they got back home. Unfortunately, much like the Chinese restaurant from that second night, Peter's pride was very much in play and he wasn't having it. As a compromise they ended up grabbing hot dogs at a nearby cart. Honestly, it tasted quite good so Harry wasn't going to complain.

On Peter's insistence they took the subway. He wanted Harry to have the full New York experience. What followed was a trip that Harry would never forget and one he certainly never wanted to repeat. The train was crowded, there was a faint smell of body odour everywhere and oh god, the farts - _the farts_.

When at last they were above ground, and able to breathe fresh air, Harry turned to Peter and told him, "I am never stepping foot on that infernal thing again. Even if there’re no ruddy cabs, I'll bloody walk if I have to."

Of course, Harry's words were only received with laughter.

Peter, Harry decided in that moment, was a sadistic bastard who shouldn't be trusted.

"It wasn't that bad," Peter finally replied, mirth sparkling in his pretty - no, _his wicked, evil_ \- eyes.

Harry just grunted and crossed his arms, rather than dignifying that statement with a response.

"Well, we're in Queens. Where to now?" Harry asked, after looking around and scanning the unfamiliar area.

"Follow me, we're just a couple of blocks away."

When they got home, Harry thanked Peter again for his help and they went their separate ways.

There were still a few hours of sunlight left, but Harry had been up since early morning and he felt a little tired. The wizard collapsed on his sinfully comfy couch - _thank you magic_ \- and closed his eyes.

* * *

When Harry woke up he was in Hogwarts, standing in the middle of a corridor, under the cover of his invisibility cloak. He was heading to the Astronomy Tower, for some reason, and he knew he had to be quiet - why?

He slinked through the corridors, looking out for danger around every corner. He reached the base and took small, light steps up the winding staircase. Once at the top of the tower, he was greeted by an unexpected view.

When the sight before him didn’t change, Harry took small faltering steps forward. He sat down, legs hanging off the ledge of the tower, and frowned with confusion. Where there should have been a blanket of trees, stretched between black waters and great mounds of earth, there were dimmed skyscrapers and dark streets instead. This sleeping city stretched up into the lower boundaries of the dark sky above - the eternal sunless sea.

Such a contrast to the wilderness that typically surrounded the castle.

It was striking, mesmerising, _wrong._

That was when he clued in.

Out of the blue, he felt the solid grip of a hand on his ankle.

A chill crept up through his legs, draining the warmth from his blood, and yet… he didn’t hate it. Harry tore his gaze away from the cityscape and peered down at his leg to get a glimpse of the intruding hand.

Only to find there was nothing there.

Harry leaned forward, wondering if the night was playing tricks on his vision.

The grip tightened and pulled. For a moment, Harry felt weightless. Then came the fall and the harsh sensation of the freezing gales battered his body as he fell towards the abyss.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t scream. His limbs were stiff and his lips would not part.

Harry fell into a dark chasm that had silently opened up in the ground below. He could see hands made of wisps of black smoke reaching out for him.

The indecipherable cries of a great many voices rang in his ears, demanding his attention like a rising chorus.

His eyes rolled back into his head as he plummeted into the chasm with only a single gasp, and then he was awake.

Unlike previous nightmares, Harry didn’t wake up sweating or panting - neither fear nor adrenaline. Instead, he simply opened his eyes and lay there unsettled, staring up at the ceiling.

Harry didn’t know how long he laid there before he decided to get up. Heaving himself off of the sofa, Harry looked out of the window and noted that the sun was beginning its descent. He mustn't have been asleep for more than a couple of hours.

Looking around his flat, Harry had no clue what to do with himself. He was out of sorts for reasons he couldn’t explain. Something about that dream was different.

Those hands. Harry could still feel their touch.

Those voices. Harry could still hear their call.

In an attempt to distract himself from that lingering nightmare, he spent some time watching funny videos on his phone.

After the third compilation of people getting hit in the bollocks failed to elicit any laughter, he figured he'd go out again and see if life had any more surprises in store. A few nights ago he had stumbled onto some sort of amateur theatre production at a park, which he greatly enjoyed.

With an unexplainable weight on his chest, Harry slipped his shoes on and stepped out of the apartment.

The walk that followed was relaxing. The sun had yet to set, so it was still too early for much to be happening, but Harry managed to keep himself distracted. He stopped by a few trinket stores, amusing himself with all the tacky things the store clerks pretended were magical. Afterwards, he stopped by an ice cream shop and got a small cone. And another. And then a third, with hot fudge.

Once he pried himself away from the place, Harry walked around aimlessly. All in all, it was a short and uneventful stroll. One of many that he had taken in recent weeks. The cool breeze and bustling sounds of the city helped to keep his head clear.

Still, it wasn’t perfect. New York was rather lacking when it came to the air quality, and the _smell_ in some places was...

Well, that's what bubblehead charms were for.

Harry was reasonably far from home when a loud cry startled him.

Alarmed, he tried to look around for the source of the noise, turning his head every which way to localise the sound.

_‘There!’_

In a narrow alley, across the street, was what appeared to be a mugging or assault. Two bulky men in ski masks and dirty, oversized jackets were strong arming a woman and dragging her further into the alley. One of the men had one of his hands over her mouth, keeping her from crying out again, while he used his other hand to hold her hair tightly, preventing her from jerking her head around. The other thug was restraining her hands and crowding the woman, manoeuvring her into the direction they wanted.

Harry reacted on instinct.

He pulled the elder wand out and ran across the street, narrowly avoiding the cars speeding through. There was no game plan, except that he had to stop _the death ea_ \- the criminals from harming the woman.

Harry sprinted into the alley, taking the muggles by surprise. The bigger of the two thugs let go of the woman's hair and seemed to reach for his pocket.

Harry didn't give him the chance.

" _Ventus duo!"_

Two swirling gusts of wind erupted from the tip of his wand, slamming into the two would be muggers. It knocked them off their feet and sent them skidding back a few metres away. He kept running forward, coming to a stop in front of the young lady, ready to shield her if necessary. He sent two stunning spells their way, knocking them out for good measure, then turned to the woman.

"Are you okay?" he asked the terrified victim. She had fallen to the floor when the men holding her had been blasted back. She was shaking a little - small, barely there tremors - and her eyes kept flitting back and forth between him and the two thugs collapsed on the ground.

"Y-yeah," she stuttered. She sat up, and looked him up and down. To Harry's confusion, she started crawling backwards away from him, stopping only when her back hit the wall. "How did you do that? You- you sent them fucking flying!"

"Uhhh…"

"Are you a super?"

"Umm…"

"Uh, are- are you an alien?"

"An _alien_?"

"What you just did… was- was that magic? You look li- like that L-Loki guy," she seemed to be genuinely afraid now. She staggered to her feet, watching him like a prey might a predator. every move. Harry tried to approach her, but she was skittish and took several steps to the side, eyes darting back and forth, between himself and the entrance to the alley.

Fearing that she would run away and expose him, Harry made his mind up.

"I'm sorry," he told her, and pointed his wand at her.

Her eyes widened and she screamed, darting away and making a run for it.

" _Obliviate._ "

A pale green beam of light shot up his wand and through the air, hitting the fleeing woman in the back.

The changes were instant.

The woman tripped, and almost met the gravel face first as she came to an immediate stop. Carefully, Harry walked up to and around her. She had a dazed expression, looking completely disoriented, the spell having made her forget the last few minutes. In this blank state she was like an empty canvas, so Harry told her that she was walking home. In this version of events, the woman had simply turned the wrong way and was about to turn back and go the correct way.

The instructions quickly took, and she was walking away moments later, leaving Harry to deal with the unconscious thugs.

He returned to the limp unconscious bodies and wondered what to do with them. Calling the police was an option but there was no evidence of any crime, with the woman gone and unable to testify. If anything, it looked like he had attacked two unsuspecting men. It might not be the best idea to catch the attention of the muggle authorities anyhow.

He tried to think of another course of action when something in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

A man.

He was holding a gun.

Harry felt like time had stopped. He tried to raise his wand and cast a spell but it was no use. His movement was sluggish, and in that moment it was as though he were standing at the bottom of the ocean, his body being crushed by the weight of the water. Everything had slowed down.

The gun fired.

Harry just about caught a glimpse of the bullet. It shot through the air with a deafening sound, and then... there was nothing but darkness.

Emptiness.

Silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you all so much for the comments on the last chapter, and to everyone who's stuck with the story so far. I look forward to hearing what you thought about this chapter especially ;D


	7. The Leading Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein a few surprises are in store for Harry & Peter alike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to [AxleBoost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxleBoost) for looking over this chapter & helping with the editing.

Peter was in a rush to wrap up his afternoon patrol, not wanting to keep Ned waiting for too long. It was just past six, so he reasoned that he should have plenty of time.

He had a pretty good day shopping with Harry. It hadn’t even been two weeks since they met, but they did hang out a lot in that time, so Peter felt like he could call the guy a friend. And he had a serious shortage of those.

Not to say Peter was friendless. Obviously, there was Ned, and MJ — depending on her mood — but that was pretty much it. He guessed he was friendly with the decathlon team and some others in school, but friendly acquaintances were far from being friends.

Peter would normally be more nervous around someone new, but Harry was just so nice and unpretentious; it was easy to let his guard down around him. The last time he warmed up to someone so quickly was back in middle school, when this cheerful Hawaiin kid sat next to him in the cafeteria. He should only be so lucky as to have found another friendship like that. 

There was something weird about Harry though. He was so clueless about the most basic things sometimes and, as endearing as it was, Peter sometimes wondered if it could really be explained away by his background. It was just an odd feeling he had.

 _'At least it's been a quiet day,'_ he tried to redirect his thoughts away from the other boy. 'Guess even criminals like to take a day off.'

Earlier, he'd stopped a burglary in the outskirts of Brooklyn. Three brothers down on their luck had apparently decided to turn it around by robbing a local grocery store. He’d gotten the jump on them when they were yelling at each other and moments away from trading blows. Apparently the idiots never considered that a small local grocery store might not be drowning in cash, and were pissed at each other about the small haul.

Besides that he only did a bunch of small helpful stuff, rescuing cats from trees, helping old ladies through traffic — just friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man stuff.

He was casually swinging his way back home when his enhanced senses picked up the sound of a shrill scream. It was over to his right, not too far away. Peter shot out a web and used it to swing himself up in the air, doing a flip and landing atop the nearest building. Lacking any proper high points to swing from, he used his strength and speed to run across the roofs and leap across the roads, until he got to the general area of the scream.

He moved around the block, scanning the streets and alleys for any criminal activity. The only person on the street was a slightly dishevelled woman walking briskly down the street. Not an unusual sight, to be honest. Peter was wondering if he should approach her, to ask if she heard any screaming, when he heard a gunshot ring out. It came from a nearby alley.

Peter rushed there, and what he saw horrified him.

A man was crouched over two unconscious men trying to wake them up. All three of them wore ski masks disguising their identities, even as they marked them as the likely criminals. Closer to the entrance of the alley was another man splayed out on the ground, blood gushing from an open head wound.

It was a gruesome sight. Even ignoring the awful sight of all that blood, the brain matter just peeking through hole in the skull was enough to make Peter incredibly nauseated. Peter tried to calm himself, even as his stomach lurched and he had to keep from throwing up. The young superhero shook his head, thinking of how Mr. Stark would handle this. He steeled himself and jumped off the roof, landing with a quiet thud on the ground near the dead body — not close enough to step on the pooling blood; he didn't need to be cleaning _that_ off.

The sound of his landing startled the man trying to rouse his friends. He jumped up to his feet and fumbled for his gun, but Peter was faster and knocked the gun out of his reach with a precise shot of his web fluid. The gun flew out of the thugs hand to the other side of the alley, wrapped in a web that made it useless.

"S-Spiderman! The fuck are you doing here!?" The panicked thug yelled out.

"Just thought I'd check up on my favourite alley. This one has the nicest rats, you know?" Peter replied, trying to maintain his bravado even as he was keenly aware of the corpse right next to him.

The man paid his words no mind, clearly trying to find a way out of this situation. Peter didn’t see how. Sure, the guy could pretend to be innocent but the gun, the bullet the cops would surely find somewhere in or behind the body, and Spider-Man’s own testimony were more than enough to get him locked up for ages.

"So normally I'd make some jokes and have a little fun with the bad guys," Peter told the criminal, "but you kind of murdered someone, so..."

The thug squared his shoulders. Peter narrowed his eyes. It seemed that the thug was going to do this the hard way. Sure enough, the asshole pulled out a knife from his pocket and charged. Nonplussed, Peter only let him get as far as two feet before he had the guy webbed up. With a wince, Peter watched as the murdering jackass fell over, landing face first onto the gravel.

The man cried out in pain.

"Fuck you bug boy!" He yelled. His words were muffled by the asphalt, but Peter heard him anyway.

The young man decided to ignore the captive criminal for the time being. He briefly directed his suit's AI Karen to alert the police, which she dutifully did, but not before telling Peter that Mr. Stark would most likely want to talk to him about this incident.

Peter sighed, but acknowledged the message. This wouldn't be the first murder Peter dealt with, but Mr. Stark always made sure that Peter talked to Happy and himself about any incident that was deemed traumatic. They were quite concerned about his mental health and wanted to make sure he dealt with any possible trauma. Of course, Mr. Stark never admitted he was worried about Peter. Instead, when confronted, the man cracked some jokes about Peter being too young to pull off the ‘grizzled soldier with inner demons’ look.

He moved over to the other two men, webbing them up just in case they woke up before the cops got there. Peter had to wonder just how they got knocked out in the first place. Was it their victim that did it?

Having secured the criminals, Peter finally ran out of excuses to avoid the gruesome scene and walked over to the dead body.

Crouching down by the corpse, taking care to avoid the spilled blood, he examined the body. The face was horribly disfigured, but something was familiar about it. There was a terrible feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Peter tried to ignore it and moved on to look over the body. The man was wearing a pair of slim red trousers, and a striped black and white sweater.

With dawning realisation, Peter thought back to just a few hours earlier. Harry had been wearing the same clothes.

He tried to tell himself that it was a perfectly common outfit, this could still be somebody else, but deep down he knew that this dead body belonged to one Harry Potter.

He didn’t have it in him to touch the body or peel back the blood soaked fringe for a closer look, so he took a deep breath, trying to hold back tears, and pulled out his phone. He unlocked it and tapped the caller app, tapping on Harry's name on the list. He held his breath as the dial tone started; and seconds later, when a ringtone sounded from the pockets of the dead body, a single drop trailed down his cheek and landed on the pooling blood below.

Harry Potter, his new neighbour and friend was murdered. And Peter had arrived too late to stop it.

* * *

When Harry opened his eyes, all he saw was nothingness.

He was floating in darkness — cold and smothering yet somehow soothing. Everything about this pitch black void screamed out _leave, you do not belong_ ; and yet Harry felt like he was on a different wavelength, hearing nothing but a welcoming voice beckoning him further in.

He half wondered if he'd gone blind, but despite the absence of a single speck of light, he could still see his body and limbs as clear as day.

"Where the fuck am I?" Harry wondered aloud.

" **_You are home_ **," a voice spoke, coming from all directions. It was loud and quiet, chilling and soothing, high and low — a dichotomy of opposites that sent a shiver up Harry's spine and raised the hairs on his neck.

"What- who? What does— I'm… home?" Harry asked the disembodied voice, looking around and feeling strangely at ease.

" **_You are home,_ **" it repeated.

"Show yourself," the young wizard demanded.

The darkness began to ripple, like it had been a still body of water disturbed by his words. Swirls of shadow began to creep in from all around, coalescing into a mass of darkness in the shape of a person.

When the darkness receded, Harry came face to face with… himself. The person — no, being — looking back at him was identical to him in every way, except its' eyes… its' eyes were two black holes devoid of all light and life. For whatever reason Harry could only describe this being wearing his face as the very antithesis of life.

"Death."

The Other Harry smiled.

" **Your soul knows the truth.** "

This was a dream.

It had to be.

"No. No, no. Nononononono- No." Harry rejected everything he saw and felt. He trampled over the parts of his brain telling him this was real. He ignored the singing of his soul at the sight of this creature.

"This is just a dream. I got shot, I'm probably in a muggle hospital. This is just a hallucination from all their drugs. That's it," the young wizard told himself, speaking the words aloud as though hearing them would make them true. He looked down at his feet, refusing to acknowledge the being floating in front of him.

" **Oh Harry, this is no dream**."

Harry tried to ignore its words, but it was having none of that. He suddenly felt a familiar power grip his body and force him to look up at his void eyed reflection. He tried to fight the magic but it was impossible. He was hopelessly overpowered.

" **I am the primal force every living creature knows and fears. I am the bringer of balance; the end and the beginning. I am Death.** "

Harry stopped struggling, going limp in the bonds that held him up.

"Why?" he asked. It was one word but it meant so many things. Why was he here? Why did Death look like him? Why was he in another world? Why? Why? Why?

**"You have mastered my Hallows. The covenant has been forged.”**

“The Ha— Oh…. The Master of Death...” Harry spoke to himself”

Death narrowed its eyes and leaned closer — too close. **“Master of Death you are not. ‘Tis a silly tale born in the minds of foolish men,”** it scoffed.

“Then…” Harry trailed off.

 **“The Hallows were creations of mine from a time when the universe was young and I was not yet resigned to this lonely existence of mine. To them I gave of myself, that they could bestow my greatest gift to someone worthy. They have travelled the universes, lingered here and there, and finally —** **_finally_ ** **— they have been reunited.”** Death reached out and laid its hand on the side of his face. **"I had nearly forgotten,”** the deity admitted. **“So much time has passed. But here they— here** **_you_ ** **are.** **_"_ **

"But I… why me?" Harry asked weakly.

 **“Chance. Destiny. Who’s to say? Many have laid hands on my Hallows. A fair few have been in possession of all three. You are not alone in that achievement,”** Death explained. **“But you are the first that was worthy. The first of that lot that did not seek immortality, that did not seek power, that** **_accepted_ ** **death and walked towards it with convictions true. There may be others that could have proved worthy, but no matter, it is done. My Hallows have made their choice, and they have chosen you.”**

The primal being narrowed its eyes, piercing Harry with the most intense gaze he would ever endure. He felt as if Death could see into his mind, his heart, his everything.

" **You are now a piece of the whole. The first Child of Death."**

Harry could only speculate that they had lost the Battle of Hogwarts, and this was simply cruciatus-induced insanity.

Death gave a derisive snort. **"Come now Child, you must accept what you know to be true. Close your eyes, silence your errant thoughts, and feel."**

Harry, for reasons he couldn't explain, listened to the deity wearing his skin. He closed his senses to the outside world, he ignored the thoughts ringing through his head, and he reached deep into the core of what he was.

What he saw and felt astounded him.

It could only be described as a supernova of power. A raging torrent of light and dark, with intertwining streams of the most vibrant greens and the most radiant golds. It was beautiful.

He opened his eyes and looked at Death in awe.

"That— that's really me?" he asked breathlessly.

" **It is what you could become. At present you are not unlike a flickering candle in the face of the shining star you just glimpsed. You must ascend to your station; you must learn, grow,** **_become_ ** **.”**

For a moment, Harry wanted to ask how he could learn to be so great. The power he felt just then was mesmerising, and he needed to feel that rush again. But before he went down that path, he got a hold of himself and asked another question - one that had been plaguing his mind from the start of this encounter.

"What is it you want from me?"

Death hesitated. **“I... know not. This was the result of a flight of fancy many millennia ago.”** Death frowned and shook his head. **“There will be ample time in the future to explore what this means for us both. For now, I ask that you focus on yourself. Walk the path of self-discovery and become greater. The world I placed you in will aid you in this."**

"Wait, you're the reason I'm in another world?!" Harry burst out. By Merlin, he was grateful to finally have an answer, and he didn’t hate his new environment, but that didn’t make it okay for Death to take him from his home and abandon him in a new world with no warning.

 **"I am indeed the one who placed you in that particular world, into a life I created for you."** Death raised his hand, halting Harry's questions before they could begin. **"The identity you have assumed is one I weaved into existence for you. Harry Potter and his family were soulless husks that came into existence only the moment you arrived. Like seeds, they were planted into the past, that you would have a branch on which to stand."**

That… soulless husks? Harry couldn’t even begin to process that, so he shoved those questions down. At least he knew now that Death had plopped him into this magicless world. But he didn’t— why would—

Harry expressed his confusion to Death. "I don’t understand. Why would you bring me there?"

Death grimaced, his identical features twisting. For a moment, he almost looked human.

**"My intent at first was to leave you be for a single mortal life. You deserved that much, after all that you have done and seen. However, as the future of your world solidified, I saw the coming decline of the wizarding world, and more importantly I saw how they would have crushed your spirits. The weight of their expectations would never have been lifted, and they would have punished you for failing to meet them. A never ending cycle of praise and scorn. For the one who mastered my Hallows, this was unacceptable."**

Harry's wild emotions stilled. He knew Death spoke the truth about the Wizarding World. In the months after the battle, he had wondered just how long the honeymoon would last. Merlin knows that as much as the wizarding public loved him, they also loved to hate him. Still, he had a bone to pick with the entity that thought it was acceptable to drop him into a new world without so much as a by-your-leave.

"You couldn't have warned me?" he asked, barely skirting past whining.

 **"I could have,"** Death conceded, with a smirk. **"But I must admit watching you acclimate has been quite amusing."**

Harry had to be thankful for the self-restraint he'd learned in the past few months. Attacking Death was probably a terrible idea, tempting as it was.

**"In truth, I did not intend to reveal myself to you for some time yet. I wished to give you space to further adapt to your surroundings, to heal from the strain of carrying your old world. And yet, when given the opportunity I could not resist. You would have survived that encounter, however I took the chance to dull your senses, and in doing so hastened our meeting."**

"I… see." Harry most decidedly did not see, but at this point he was so overwhelmed he was ready to accept anything Death told him, if only so he could get back to his apartment and collapse in bed, forgetting about the day's events. Finding out that Death let him get killed just so they could have a chat? _Sure... whatever._

Death seemed to pick up on Harry's feelings. In a surprising move, it stepped closer and wrapped its arms around him, holding him close and tucking his face into the crook of its neck.

 **"You've learned much today,"** Death told him quietly. **"There is more to tell, but it can wait. For now, I ask only that you live your life to the fullest, and that you begin mastering your gifts. The world I chose for you will aid in your journey, it is a place that will challenge you, even as it empowers you."**

Death paused, letting the silence hang for a few heartbeats.

**"I will be watching Harry, and I look forward to our next encounter."**

With that, Harry felt the void recede, and Death's chilling — no, warm — embrace slowly faded away. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them moments later, he found himself standing in the middle of his living room.

It was the same as he left it that morning, and the sun was still mid descent. He could almost believe that it was a dream, that he'd hallucinated the whole encounter.

Except, there was a familiar power he could feel on his person — one that had not been there before. Following the source of the magic, Harry looked down at his left hand and opened his clenched fist. There, sitting in his palm, he saw the third of the Deathly Hallows — the resurrection stone.

He moved it between his fingers and held it up, watching numbly as it dissipated into wisps of darkness and joined the other Hallows in whatever place they called home.

What a day.

Harry didn’t want to think about it at all.

His bed was calling for him.

 _Wait_.

There was a noise.

Harry turned around and— 

* * *

The body was gone.

Peter didn't understand what happened. He had been kneeling over Harry's body, eyes aching with welled up tears, when he was distracted by the two webbed up criminals stirring. He turned his head to check up on them, and when he turned back Harry's body was gone.

And not just the body. The blood was gone too. Every trace of the murder…

"What the fuck!?" he yelled. Peter sprang up to his feet and scanned the whole area.

"Karen! Did you see that? The body's gone!"

"Yes Peter, my sensors detect no trace of Mr. Potter in the area. This is highly unusual."

Peter stepped forward, trying to prod the area where the body had been with his foot. His thinking was that some invisibility tech might have been involved.

"Did you catch that?"

"I'm sorry Peter. It appears my sensors were temporarily disrupted in that moment. I am unable to provide any data."

"Damn it! What the hell is going on?"

Peter kicked the ground. He was so confused, and still feeling so raw from seeing his new friend dead in front of him. Although he wondered if that was really the case now.

"Would you like me to contact Mr. Hogan Peter? This is highly unusual, perhaps it might be helpful if he was informed."

Peter knew it was probably a good idea to tell Happy about a mysteriously disappearing body, but he wanted to figure things out on his own instead of running to Happy or Mr. Stark every time things got a little weird. He had promised his aunt that if he was ever in over his head, he would get help, and he intended to honour that promise — he just wasn't there yet.

"No, don't tell him yet. We can figure this out on our own right?"

* * *

They couldn't figure it out.

Karen couldn't find any traces of the body, and when questioned the webbed up thugs had no clue where the body went either. He also asked them how they got knocked out in the first place but they didn't seem to remember anything besides Harry charging at them. Interestingly enough, Karen couldn't detect any evidence of trauma on the two men that couldn't be attributed to the fall after losing consciousness. Whatever technique Harry used it would have been something very precise and expertly done to leave no trace. Peter half wondered if he used a Vulcan nerve pinch.

Peter had given up on solving the mystery when the cops showed up. It was tough explaining that the murder happened but there was no trace of it happening. Thankfully the cops were able to find enough evidence, including the gun and the bullet that was fired, to take the three into custody for violating their parole.

The cops wanted to question Spider-Man too, but thankfully he was able to put them off by telling them to contact Mr. Stark instead. Peter wasn't officially bound by the Accords, but as a result he was Mr. Stark's responsibility, which protected his identity but raised a whole other set of problems. Thus far, Peter was able to avoid conflict with the authorities by directing them to Mr. Stark every time there was an issue. He didn't know what the billionaire superhero did to make them go away but, well, he didn't need to.

Done with the scene, a confused Peter Parker made his way back home, jumping and swinging his way through Queens. He landed in a deserted alley he could change out of his suit in. It had been pointed out by Mr. Stark that sooner or later someone would notice Spider-Man creeping into the same apartment building every night, so they decided to set up secure lockboxes in locations all around the area, where Peter could keep a change of clothes.

Having put on his 'civilian' clothes Peter walked the few blocks back to his apartment, carrying his suit in a rucksack. He kept wondering what he would tell his aunt. Would he even tell her? Was Harry even dead? Nothing made sense and it made his head hurt.

Sick of turning his brain every which way to try and figure out what could have happened, Peter resolved to investigate Harry's apartment for clues. If he couldn’t find anything then he’d get in touch with Happy.

The apartment was empty, so his aunt was probably out running some errands or visiting a friend. Ned was coming over, but Peter wasn’t expecting him for another fifteen minutes. It wasn’t a lot of time, but he decided to take the chance and break into Harry's apartment. He didn’t know what to expect, if anything, but hopefully there would be some sort of clue.

Peter grabbed a small earpiece off of his desk and took out a pair of nanite wristbands from the drawer. He slipped on the bands & earpiece, watching the bands light up for a second as they powered up. The devices were meant to let him interface with Karen and utilise her capabilities, even when not in his Spider-Man suit.

Feeling like he was in a spy themed B-movie, Peter made his way out of the apartment into the hallway, stopping at the door of the opposite apartment.

"Engage lockpick protocol," he told the AI.

"Lockpick protocol engaged," her robotic voice confirmed through the small earpiece.

He took off the wristband and held it in his palm, watching as it lit up and transformed. The nanites rearranged themselves until what he held in his palm was a key that would mold itself into whatever shape was needed. He crouched down, placing himself at eye level with the lock, only to notice something was missing.

 _‘Oh for fucks sake,’_ Peter wanted to smack himself.

The door wasn't even locked.

He stood up, letting the bracelet reform in his hands. He shook his head, feeling a little annoyed at having missed something so simple.

 _'Well, it's usually harder than this, so I shouldn't be too hard on myself,'_ he told himself. ‘ _Also, who the hell leaves their door unlocked? Like, dude._ ’

Peter took a deep breath, pushing away the nerves that had suddenly risen up, and opened the door.

It swung open, and as Peter peaked into the apartment, he found Harry Potter standing in his living room looking very much alive, and a little confused — probably because Peter just barged into his apartment.

Like a deer in headlights, Peter went completely still.

"Peter?"

Peter knew he should probably say something.

But all he could do was look at Harry and try desperately not to show how bewildered he was at finding the other boy alive and well in his apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been a long time coming. Med school has been kicking my butt, so while the chapter has been written for a while, the editing took far too long.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your lovely comments! They were lovely to read when I was stressed about this chapter. I'm really looking forward to hearing what you thought of this one especially.
> 
> Cheers!


	8. To Look Into a Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting, and secrets unveiled. Reflection, and spells tried and failed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to [AxleBoost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxleBoost) for looking over this chapter & helping with the editing.

"Peter?" the name slipped out of his mouth.

His neighbour was standing in the doorway looking quite shocked.

It was quite suspect, if Harry had to be honest. The other boy had just opened his door without knocking and was now looking like he'd seen a ghost. Peter really didn't seem like the type, but for a moment Harry half wondered if he'd misjudged the other bloke and this was a ridiculously bad attempt to steal from his flat.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Is there a reason you look so shocked to see me in my living room?"

He had to wonder what had Peter looking so shell-shocked. Harry rather thought he deserved exclusive rights to that expression after whatever the fuck happened earlier.

* * *

_‘What the actual fuck?’_

Peter stood still for a few moments longer, drinking in the view of Harry alive and well, before coming back to himself. He rubbed the back of his head and smiled nervously, trying to act casual in front of his supposed-to-be-dead neighbour.

"No, nothing's wrong, I just wanted to stop by and…" Peter's senses picked up the sound of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs.

 _‘Oh thank god,’_ Peter thought. He had an out.

"…and introduce you… to a… friend of mine," he dragged out his words, waiting to catch a glimpse of Ned’s head coming into view.

Peter ignored the dubious look Harry was giving him, and beckoned Ned over.

"No need to be shy buddy," Peter grabbed a confused Ned by his arm as soon as he was within reach, and pulled him over to the doorway. "Ned, this is Harry, the new neighbour I told you about."

_‘Okay Peter, just act natural. Sell it.’_

* * *

Harry watched bemused as Peter strode into the apartment, pulling his friend inside with him. "Harry, this is my best friend Ned. He really wanted to meet you."

Ned and Harry just stared at each other blankly for a second or two, not sure what to make of the situation - or Peter's behaviour. Harry was the first to jolt into action, reaching his hand out to greet the bloke. "Alright there mate? Good to meet you."

"Uhhh… nice to meet you too dude," Ned replied, clumsily grasping Harry's hand and giving it a shake.

"Did you two want to come in…?" Harry asked with uncertainty, pointing to the seating area behind him. Something was off about Peter’s behaviour, but he decided not to read too deeply into it. Maybe he was just nervous about having his friends meet.

Ned and Peter exchanged glances, communicating silently.

“Uh, sure,” Peter spoke up, though he didn’t sound so sure. He had a pinched look on his face, and seemed reluctant to move. “So, Harry… what’ve you been up to since we got back earlier?” Peter asked.

 _'Oh nothing much… just going for a walk, dying, and meeting Death. Oh and I found out I'm now some sort of little godling, by the way!_ ' — is what Harry thought, and would have said were he an absolute fucking lunatic.

Instead he went with, "Not much. I just took a nap on the sofa. I only woke up ten or twenty minutes ago."

Which was sort of true. He had been napping in a way — being temporarily dead counted as napping right? — and he did come back to life — i.e. wake up — ten or twenty minutes ago. He then spent that time standing in his living room questioning everything he'd ever believed in, which Peter had interrupted. He could get back to that later though. For now, the distraction was welcome. The less time Harry had to have this existential crisis the better.

"So, Ned!" he exclaimed cheerfully, patting the rather big fellow on the back and ushering him further into the living room. "How long have you known Peter?"

"Uh, since middle school I guess." Ned responded, looking quite uncomfortable in this forced social situation.

"Perfect! You can tell me about all the embarrassing things he's done," Harry grinned at the other boy, trying to make him feel more at ease. "I'll get the popcorn."

"Uh, sure."

"Wait, what!? No! No. Don’t you dare say anything Ned," Peter cried, stomping over to Ned and covering his mouth with his hand. "It's bad enough you told May about the last decathlon bake sale."

Harry laughed at the display - Ned trying to jerk away from a determined Peter. Poor Peter looked mortified at the idea of any embarrassing memories being shared.

"What happened at the bake sale?" Harry asked, wondering what could possibly have gone wrong.

Ned managed to get his mouth free from Peter's hand and blurted out, "Peter sat on a chocolate cupcake! He-"

Peter had managed to, for lack of a better word, _climb_ Ned at this point, knees digging into his friend's sides as he reached over and clamped his hands over Ned's mouth again.

"What's so bad about sitting on a chocolate cupca..." Harry trailed off as he pictured the sight. "Oh no."

Ned nodded, eyes sparkling with mirth and muffled laughs escaping, even with a red faced Peter still trying to silence him. Harry couldn’t help but join in for a little bit, laughing at Peter’s reddening face.

In the interest of preserving their friendship, Harry decided to offer the poor bloke some sympathy. "That's bad but it's not terrible,” he comforted Peter, though he may have been betrayed by the unrepentant grin on his face. “I think you can let go of Ned now, Peter.”

Peter shook his head.

"Don't tell me there's more."

Ned gave an affirmative nod.

“Oh this I _have_ to hear."

Harry decided to help Ned. He moved closer and poked Peter repeatedly on his ribs until he let go of Ned’s mouth to smack Harry’s hand away.

With his mouth freed, Ned was able to blurt out, "he walked into the girls bathroom!" Ned took a deep breath. "When he went to clean up, I mean."

Harry winced, feeling no small amount of second hand embarrassment on Peter's behalf.

 _‘Although,’_ he mused, _‘as far as traumatic memories involving girls' bathrooms, I think I come out on top.’_

"It could still be worse," he tried to comfort Peter.

"How?" the sulking teenager in question asked, having dismounted Ned. He crossed his arms and gave Harry something of a peeved look that he found especially amusing.

"Well…"

Peter raised his brow expectantly.

"You could have actually shat yourself?"

If looks could kill— 

“Oh by the way,” Harry ignored all the warning signs and continued, “did you eat the cupcake afterwards?”

—Harry would be six feet under.

* * *

They ended up spending quite a bit of time hanging out that evening, and it proved to be a surprisingly fun experience. Ned had brought with him a Star Wars lego set that they worked on together. Harry didn't know anything about the franchise, but he thought the ship they put together in the end looked absolutely wicked. When Ned found out, he was absolutely scandalised and insisted that he and Peter educate Harry on “the amazingness that is Star Wars” as soon as possible.

After the starship was built they ordered some pizza, then Peter brought over his laptop and they spent the night watching sketch comedies until Ned had to leave. Peter followed suit soon after.

* * *

As the hours passed, Harry had just about forgotten the odd way Peter and his friend had turned up at his door. He was far more preoccupied by his own turbulent thoughts. He had to admit, it was a mercy that Peter and Ned had come by. Their company served as a welcome distraction from the day's revelations. Merlin knew he needed to feel normal for just a little bit longer. 

For a few moments here and there, Harry was able to forget the weight of the day's revelations, hanging over his head by a fraying rope.

After they left, however, the rope snapped and he was forced to sit there, alone with only his thoughts for company.

 _Whys. Whats. Hows._ Over and over again, like a broken clock sounding out the same hour.

So it went, till nearly midnight. Harry couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, plagued by thoughts of his earlier ordeal. 

He had _died_.

Snuffed out by a single shot.

And in death, there was _Death_ , who had told him that he was now immortal, with the potential to wield power beyond his wildest imagination. If that wasn’t enough, he was then comforted by the surprisingly caring deity — or god, or personification, or whatever Death was — and sent back to the realm of the living as if his life hadn't fundamentally changed.

Harry couldn't bear it anymore and shot out of bed, moving to the living room. The curtains were drawn, letting Harry see the glow of the streetlamps, the dark windows of the apartments across the street, and the starry night sky up above. He stopped, only centimetres from the glass planes, and took in the view — mundane and perfect — for several minutes.

“Well… ‘spose these should be shut,” he muttered, taking a step back and pulling the curtains closed.

The room instantly darkened, lit only by the faint traces of light filtering through the fabrics of the curtains. Harry held out his hand and focused, closing his eyes out of habit.

A wisp of darkness materialised in his palm, and when it dissipated he was left with a small octahedral stone, dark and translucent, with a familiar symbol carved into it. A line within a circle within a triangle. The symbol of the Deathly Hallows.

A moment of further concentration was all it took to materialise the remaining Hallows — the Elder Wand in his other hand, and the Cloak of Invisibility wrapped around his shoulders.

With all three of Death's creations on his person, Harry could feel their power circling around him, shooting through the tiny hairs of his arms, and burrowing deep into the bones of his body. For a brief moment he could see into his soul and the doubts, digging into him like thorny vines wrapped around his throat, disappeared. Then, they were back, choking and battering Harry for answers.

He knew he was something different now.

Not human, surely. But a god? No, that didn't feel right.

Death had called him a ‘Child of Death’, but that didn't feel right either.

He was just Harry. But he was also becoming something much greater than himself and he just could not comprehend it.

Perhaps he didn’t need to. Did it matter if he was ready to understand all of this?

At the very least, he knew his magic was a little stronger now than it had been a month ago, and stronger then than it had been the month before; steadily but slowly increasing — since that day he had united the Hallows, he realised. What other changes had they and their creator wrought?

 _‘If I were to look into a mirror, would I recognise myself?’_ he wondered.

It was a silly thought, he knew he would still see the same reflection as ever, but the idea that he had changed as a person still gnawed at him. Certainly, when Death guided him into the depths of his soul, Harry felt different. For those precious few moments he had felt mighty and powerful, like something so much… _more._ But here, in the world of the living, he felt nothing of the sort. Harry James Potter was just an ordinary wizard in a world that was not his own.

It didn’t matter though. Whatever it was Death had planned for him; whatever it was that he could become — all that mattered was this: did he want to go along with it? This path promised great power, but power for power’s sake only was not something Harry had ever found compelling. If he could find a purpose, and use it for good, then maybe…

Death did say he had placed him in this world for a reason.

 _"It will challenge you even as it empowers you”,_ he had said.

And what, pray tell, did that mean?

Harry let out a deep breath, shaking his head. Death’s cryptic words didn’t matter either right now. He just had to make a choice. Would he feign ignorance and live in denial, or would he face this new life head on?

Harry blinked in surprise, realising that he had brought the Elder Wand to rest on his chest, over his heart. Evidently his body knew what choice he would make before he himself did.

With grim determination, Harry gripped the Elder Wand tightly, pulled the Invisibility Cloak closer, and clenched his fist around the Resurrection Stone. He steeled himself for what might come, then focused on this new, seemingly divine, part of himself — a faint ember that could one day be a raging flame.

 _'Please. Show me what to do. I need help,'_ Harry pleaded, hoping for an answer — from Death, from someone, anyone. But there was no response. He was left in the silence of the night, with nought more than the sound of his heart beating heavily in his chest, pounding in an unsteady rhythm that had him nervous with anticipation.

_Thump._

_Thump._

_Thump. Thump._

Then, suddenly, he was caught up in a strange sensation, not unlike the shifting of sand. It lasted only seconds, disappearing as quickly as it came — and with it, the Elder wand.

With the room devoid of light, Harry didn’t see it happen, but he felt the weight of the wand disappear from his right hand. At first he wondered if it had simply fallen to the floor. Frantically, Harry rushed over to the wall on his right, reaching out and blindly fumbling at the light switches until the room was lit up. The wand was nowhere to be found.

"Oh for fuck’s sake! This isn't what I meant," he squawked.

An attempt to summon the wand back, like he'd done so many times by now, failed. Frustrated, the wizard paced in the living room, kicking the coffee table petulantly for good measure.

_‘Bugger me. Now what?’_

Just how was he supposed to do magic without a wand? He was a wizard for fuck’s sake. It's not like he could just wave his hands and make things happen.

Harry went still.

 _‘I_ **_was_ ** _a wizard,’_ he realised. _‘Not sure I still am.’_

Frustrated, Harry moved over to the nearest sofa and slumped down.

 _'Bloody fucking hell, is this some sort of lesson?_ ' he grumbled. _'Why bother telling Harry what's going to happen? No, “I'm Death and I'm just going to dump him back on Earth and leave everything as a surprise — what a lovely gift that'll be”.’_

Merlin. He was well pissed off now.

Harry fumed for a good few minutes, and let out some proper curses of the non-magical variety, before deciding to make the best of a bad situation.

"Lumos," he tried to cast, raising his hands and trying to mimic the flicking motion of a wand.

Unsurprisingly, there was no response.

"Lumos," he tried again, trying to dig deep and consciously draw on his magic, much like he did when trying to cast particularly difficult spells.

It still didn't work, but he felt something change — static in the air, it felt like. So he tried again, with more determination this time. He dug deeper and deeper, latched onto his magic, and then he pulled it out and _pushed_ . Eventually, he felt something give — a small chill, a tiny warmth, a feeling of _connection_.

"Lumos," he tried for the third time, and not a second later Harry was whooping with delight at the flickering orb of white light floating in his palm. It didn't last for long unfortunately. The light started to flicker not ten seconds later before being extinguished.

Enthused by the brief success, Harry practiced the charm for an hour, casting it again and again.

Over the course of his practice he realised that his magic had fundamentally changed. It wasn’t working at all like it was supposed to. As he got more familiar with manipulating it without a wand, Harry realised that sometimes the orb of light would form before he spoke the spell — before he even said it in his head. It was as though the magic was responding only to his will.

He wanted an orb of light in his hand, and that was what it gave him — Latin spell be damned.

With that revelation, he tried altering the spell. He pictured the orb of light in other colours, and lo and behold, it appeared in different colours. Then it was sizes, intensities, rudimentary shapes. It was honestly incredible. A whole new world of magic to explore and without any of the stuffy rules of wizarding magic. He felt so in tune with the energies circulating his body and was almost giddy at the prospect of experimenting further.

Just before he decided to call it a night, Harry tried to direct his magic to mimic another spell — this time ‘Wingardium Leviosa’, the levitation charm — and he could feel his magic trying, but it was weak, sluggish, and unable to do as he asked. Interestingly, he did manage to levitate a plate when using the latin incantation.

Perhaps he needed to practice with normal spells before he was familiar, or attuned, enough to no longer need them?

Merlin’s beard, that would be a right pain. This wizard had better things to do than spend hours practicing every spell in his repertoire all over again.

For a mercy, the elder wand rematerialised in Harry's hand soon after he decided to stop. Evidently it was only gone for the duration of the impromptu magic lesson, and thank God — or err, Death — for that. Based on how long it took to be competent with just a light spell, Harry didn’t think he’d be graduating from wand waving and Latin spells for some time yet.

An hour past midnight, Harry went back to bed, finally feeling somewhat settled. He now knew why he was in this world, and he had a goal — vague as it was.

Things were looking up.

* * *

A little earlier in the night, around ten, Peter was lounging around in his bedroom. He’d gone back home as soon as Ned left. It wasn't that late, and a day ago he woulda wanted to chill at Harry's some more, but right now he was just completely freaked out and he didn’t think he could be around Harry alone without blurting something out. It was hard enough faking normalcy when he had Ned around as a buffer. Hell, he was sure Harry noticed him acting weird but thankfully he seemed to ignore it.

In the safety and comfort of his own room, Peter spent some time trying to put the pieces together. It amounted to nothing though. Realising that he was in over his head, and missing far too much information, Peter called Happy to brief him and ask for advice.

"So you're telling me you saw this guy die?" Happy tried to clarify, after hearing the story.

"Yeah."

"And then he was alive?"

"Yup."

"And you're sure it's the same guy?"

"Hundred percent."

"And you're sure he's responsible?"

" _That_ I have no idea about, but still doesn't change the fact that he was dead and then he… wasn’t."

"So what's his deal? Sure it wasn’t a twin?”

"He had the same clothes and his phone on him."

"Probably not a twin then… Zombie?"

"Uh…” Peter didn’t even want to know how Happy jumped from twin to zombie. “I don't think so?"

"Alien then?"

"He doesn't look like one."

"And Thor does? Don't judge an alien by its cover Peter," Happy quipped. "Anyway, I'll talk to Tony and see what he says about dead people not staying dead."

"Thanks, Happy," Peter replied, already feeling better. Surely Mr. Stark would figure it out easily enough. "So what do I do now?" he asked, not wanting to just wait around doing nothing.

"Just keep an eye on him I guess. No matter what, be careful and stay safe kid," Happy instructed sternly.

"Gotcha!" Peter said, "I'll see what I can dig up, and I'll be careful. Bye Happy!"

"Talk to ya later kid," Happy replied, hanging up before Peter could.

 _'What now?'_ Peter asked himself.

He'd already done all his homework, and it was pretty late so he should go to sleep. Unfortunately, the knowledge that his new friend was possibly some sort of threat — a threat which by the way was right next door — was not conducive to sleep.

Peter sighed. _‘This is gonna be a long night.’_

* * *

In an upstate facility, a tired Happy Hogan made a note to discuss the Harry Potter situation with his boss in the morning. They didn't have much to go on, but he was definitely worried. This guy was living right next to Peter.

The kid was a pain in the ass sometimes, but it was his job to watch out for him. So, this ‘Harry’ fucker better pray he wasn't a threat, because Happy would bring in the big guns if he had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! (Please ignore the fact that it's the end of January.)
> 
> This chapter took a while. I never realised when I started writing this fic what a picky bastard I'd end up being. I told myself that I was done editing this chapter sometime in late December, then again in early January, then again a few days ago. I was going to post this 3 hours ago, then my brain decided "oh you know what'll be fun, edit this chapter again" and I ended up essentially rewriting around 1/4 of it overall.
> 
> I'm pretty happy with the end result though, and I hope you will be too! Thank you so much for the astounding response to the last chapter! I loved reading all the comments as they trickled in; made my studying a lot more bearable.
> 
> I can't wait to hear what you think of this one.
> 
> Cheers!


	9. Bracing for the Wave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter tries to investigate again, May has something to say, and Harry gets a message (or two).

Something was off with Peter.

Harry had dropped by to see him several times over the last week, and while Peter was outwardly friendly, there was a distance between them that couldn’t be crossed. Even May was curt in their few interactions. He was sure he hadn’t done anything to offend her, of all people.

He tried asking Peter what was wrong but the bloke only smiled and acted as though Harry was imagining things. Harry wasn't buying it though and, fed up as he was, he considered using legilimency on the Parkers. Only two things stopped him — the massive violation of privacy, and the fact that he was absolutely pants at legilimency. 

So he was forced to let it be, watching as his new friend pulled away for no reason.

 _‘You’ve only known this chap for a month,’_ he told himself, _‘you shouldn't care this much.’_

But he did care. And it did hurt.

* * *

Over in the other apartment, Peter was on the phone with Happy again.

"So he hasn’t done _anything_ suspicious?" Happy sounded skeptical.

"Yeah, he's just been acting normal." Peter confirmed. “I did what you said, I acted normal and we chilled, but I don't know, I haven't seen anything weird."

It had been a little over a week since Peter had stumbled into his new friend's dead body, and he still wasn't sure what to make of it. He was absolutely sure that it had happened, and that the body was Harry’s. The familiar — if grossly disfigured — face, the identical clothes, and the ringing phone in its pocket. There was no chance it was anything but the guy on the other side of the hall.

And if that wasn’t damning enough, he had Karen to back him up. He could believe that _he_ had only been hallucinating, but somehow he doubted the AI in his suit shared the delusion.

Peter sighed and turned over in his bed, facing the wall.

The advice from Happy was to stay alert and keep an eye on Harry. He and Mr. Stark thought that Harry might be an enhanced human of some sort; they decided that a wait-and-see approach was best. They were probably right. None of them knew for sure what they were dealing with, and there didn’t seem to be any harm so far in waiting for more information. But this invisible dance between Harry and himself was getting on his nerves. He was more than a little tempted to say screw it and just ask Harry what happened that day, but Happy was clear. No direct confrontation until they knew who or what Harry was.

Friday had run several background checks on Harry, and so far nothing stood out. He was a rich orphan, had decent grades, and was a legal adult. His family was pretty reclusive, going out of their way not to associate with people, even for their strange religious community. There were some pictures of a young Harry looking bored and vacant, but while they were a strange bunch there was no smoking gun.

His search history was weird though, lots of googling the most basic things. It fit with his background though, but Peter had his doubts.

Friday also accessed cameras across the city, compiling all the footage of his adventures in his time over the city. They had noticed that on his first day he spent a suspiciously long time by the Woolworth building, then he went off screen and he wasn't seen on any of the other cameras. There were hints of something strange happening in the telecom store in the corner of the building — some sort of flashing light and some blurry movements — but even after Friday tried to process and clean up the footage it was grainy and unclear. This of course raised more flags, because except for that short period of time the footage was very clear, being recorded by excellent cameras in high definition. Unfortunately — or fortunately? — further investigation didn't turn anything up.

In the end the standing instruction was to keep watch and wait.

But Peter was tired of waiting.

Throwing caution to the wind, he decided to act. The information was out there and he resolved to find it.

Last time, he got busted walking in through the front door — which, in his defence, was not his fault; he thought Harry was dead after all. He was sure that with his abilities he’d be able to take a more stealthy approach.

* * *

Later that night, Peter tried to calm his nerves as used his abilities to defy gravity, latching onto the building just below Harry's living room window. He was worried he would get caught and he could have sworn there was a little voice in his head telling him he was an idiot for not listening to Mr. Stark.

It was around 2 am, so Harry was already asleep, as was most of the city, so there was little chance of someone looking out their window and seeing Spider-Man busting into an apartment. 

Peter carefully climbed up to perch on the window sill and jostled the glass pain. As he expected, the window wasn't locked. He was able to open it, doing so slowly to avoid making any noise. The window was open. So far so good. 

Peter then tried to crawl into the apartment, moving to enter feet first. In a shocking turn of events, however, his foot encountered some sort of resistance and was halted in place. He tried to push through whatever this unseen barrier was, but it refused to give way and instead he had the shock of his life when he was flung into the air by an invisible force.

"What the fuuuuu—" Peter yelled out as his body flew through the air and across the street.

His reflexes kicked in and he was able to reorient himself, quickly taking stock of his situation. Peter shot a web at the nearest building and used his momentum to swing forward and up, propelling himself back into the air. He shot out another web, and maintained his forward trajectory until he was some distance away from the apartment building. The last thing he wanted was to be spotted.

He landed on an apartment building at the far end of the street, and perched on the side of the flat roof. 

"What the fuck was that?" he panted, trying to calm his frantically beating heart.

He had no clue what happened, and neither did Karen. The best she could guess was some sort of electromagnetic field but the readings his suit had taken didn't support that theory. Still… if this wasn't proof of something fishy going on, Peter didn't know what was.

He had to report to Happy.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, Peter had Karen dial Happy. He wasn't looking forward to this call at all, largely because of the subject matter but also because he knew Happy was going to be pissed at being woken up past midnight.

It took a minute for the call to connect.

"Peter," Happy sighed, voice husky with sleep, "you better have a good reason to call me at two in the fu-,” Happy cleared his throat. “At two in the morning.”

"Hey Happy. I’m really sorry, but something _major_ happened," Peter rushed to say.

"What happened? Are you okay?" Happy questioned, more alert, voice steeped with concern.

"Yeah I'm fine, I caught myself."

"Wha-"

"Just let me explain," Peter cut him off. "So uh, I kinda got tired of waiting for something to happen, so I decided to sneak into Harry's apartment."

"Peter…" Happy sounded really disappointed.

"Yeah, I know, I’m sorry. But anyway, I wait till now so that he'd be asleep, then I scaled the building and opened the window. But when I tried to crawl in, it was like I hit an invisible wall or something and then it sent me flying, like it just frickin’ catapulted me way into the air — as in, someone without superpowers would be dead."

The other end of the line was silent for a heartbeat or two, then he heard Happy moving, followed by a muffled swear.

"So I'm guessing I'm in trouble?" he asked, knowing full well what the answer was.

"Oh no, you just ignored us and got yourself into a potentially dangerous situation without even a heads up. No big deal."

That was a yes.

Peter resigned himself to deal with inevitable lectures from all three adults in his life. In the meantime, however, there were things to be done, so he asked Happy what the next step would be.

"You can't do anything with this stuff right now. Just go to bed Peter, I'll tell Tony tomorrow morning and let you know what he says," Happy instructed him sternly. "Got it?"

"Got it," Peter rolled his eyes. "Talk to you in the morning."

Happy said his own goodbye and hung up.

Peter was ever so slightly irritated. He knew Happy was concerned about him but that didn't mean he wasn't a capable superhero. He ignored their instructions, sure, but it really wasn't that big of a deal. It got them a new lead on Harry! 

Letting out a yawn, Peter decided to go back to his room and catch some shut eye. There was nothing left to be done at this time, and he was getting drowsy. He swung across the street, and landed on all fours on the roof of the building opposite. He then leapt across the roofs until he landed on the roof of his apartment building.

From there Peter walked over to the edge of the roof and leaned forward, placing his hands on the side of the building. Using his abilties he was able to crawl upside down to the window of his bedroom. He lifted the glass pane, and entered the room.

Minutes later, he was out of his spider suit and curled up in bed.

* * *

On the other side of the hall Harry was wide awake and alert. Someone had attempted to breach his wards, though he couldn't pinpoint where exactly. He checked the windows in the bedrooms, then the front door, finally stopping in the living room where he spotted an open window.

Harry tried to feel for any magical traces, but he couldn't sense anything. Evidently the would-be home invader was a muggle. Harry peaked out the window, but saw no one in the immediate vicinity.

He popped his head back inside, and closed the window.

Harry considered investigating more thoroughly, but it was late, he was tired, and the wards had obviously done their job in keeping him safe. This could wait till tomorrow.

He went back to bed, enveloping himself with the sinfully comfortable blankets, and fell asleep in no time.

* * *

May Parker was not amused. She'd only just started her day when she checked her phone and saw a text from Happy Hogan describing Peter’s late night antics.

Sure, she'd agreed to give him the space he needed to be a hero, but part of that agreement was that he would listen to Happy and Stark's instructions. And hers for that matter.

It was seven in the morning; she was making waffles, waiting for Peter to wake up.

Once they were ready she stacked them on a plate, and whether by coincidence or from the tempting smell of the waffles, Peter was soon found stumbling out of his room. His hair was an unkempt mess, his pyjamas were wrinkled, and he was looking at the room like he didn't recognise it.

"Mornin'" he grunted, taking a seat at the dining table.

"Good morning," May replied in kind. She handed Peter a plate, then grabbed the plate of waffles and brought it over to him. "How many?"

"Three please!" Peter watched the plate of waffles with hungry eyes.

May served the kid three waffles and put the plate back on the counter. Rather than serving some food for herself, she chose to go back to the table and take a seat opposite Peter, who was already shovelling food into his now wide awake face.

"So I hear you were up late last night," she told him casually, waiting to see how he'd react.

Peter stilled immediately. He put down his fork, swallowed, and looked at her warily. "It's 7am. How did Happy tell you already?" he asked, exasperated.

"He texted right after you called him," she replied. "saw it when I woke up."

"Of course he did," Peter grumbled. "Look," he sighed, "I just tried to sneak in through his window. It's not like I expected to be, uh, sent flying. I'm _fine._ "

May sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"I'm glad you're fine Peter," she finally said. "But it's not about that. Part of me letting you be Spider-Man was that you would listen to Happy and Stark. I need you to be safe, and I can't trust that you'll be safe if you go around doing whatever you feel like."

"I didn't even leave the street," Peter told his aunt indignantly. “I know what I’m doing May! I’m not just some kid playing superhero or some dude LARPing. He was asleep, I was sneaky, and I knew he had no alarms. It wasn’t that dangerous!"

"You went after him without telling anyone Peter!" May snapped, raising her voice. She then caught herself, and took a deep breath. "I’m sorry for yelling, just... _look_ , I don't want to believe that Harry is a threat, but he _could_ be. Stark is right, what are the odds that a mutant or alien or whatever he is would end up living next to _you_ of all people?"

She sighed and slumped backwards in the chair.

"I need you to be safe," she blurted out, "and if he’s actually dangerous, and if something bad happened, no one would have known until morning."

"I still had Karen, she could ha—”

"I know! And I’m glad she can help keep you safe, but it doesn’t make it all okay Peter. If you at least talked to Happy or Stark before you went, I could at least rest easy knowing they had a backup plan or two ready, not that they'd be scrambling to save you after something went wrong."

May stopped talking, feeling a lump in her throat. She had to close her eyes briefly then blink to keep her eyes dry. Peter wasn’t unscathed by the emotion of the moment either. She watched as he let his head hang, picking up his fork and toying with the food.

"I'm sorry," he told her quietly. "I just wanted this to be over. I really like Harry you know? He's nice, he’s funny, he doesn't judge. I actually have a new friend. Like, how often does that happen?” he laughed sardonically, then sighed, letting his head hang as he stared at his half eaten waffle. “I... I don’t know. I just wanted to get it all over with. Better to know and get it over with, y’know?”

May felt a deep sadness wash over her. Peter was such a great kid, even before he became Spider-Man. He was so _good_ , in every sense of the word, that she had a hard time believing he wasn’t the most liked guy at school.

With a soft sigh, May reached over and ran her thumb gently down his cheek.

"I get it Peter,” she relented, “but that doesn't mean you get to just rush into danger like that. Those two are responsible for your safety and, even though it worked out this time, I need to know that you're not doing this on your own."

May pulled back back and stood up, circling around the table to sit next to her nephew so she could wrap her arm around him and pull him close.

"I can see where you’re coming from, but what I don’t get is what makes this so different," Peter admitted after a moment's silence. "I go out on patrol every day, and sometimes I end up getting shot at. I don't always tell Happy about those before going in. Why's that ok, but not this?"

May didn't really have an answer for him at first. She took some time to mull over it and go over her thought process.

Over the last year she had adjusted to Peter’s ‘profession’, trusting him to go around taking on the evils of the New York streets on his own. Those were usually a known quantity though. Between the strength of his powers and that fancy suit, she had faith that Peter could handle any amount of armed thugs. But Harry was an unknown. If he had special powers, and May thought he did, well.... the whole world had seen what people with special powers could do if they meant harm. 

"This is something new Peter," she replied carefully. "We don’t know what he’s capable of, as you saw last night. I trust you to handle yourself on your patrols because you know what the dangers are, and you’ve proven that you can handle them.” She waited for Peter to nod in acknowledgement. “And,” she admitted, “if you think I wasn't worried as hell when you started, you're dead wrong. I still worry… but by now, it's easier to have faith, I guess."

Peter moved closer and gave May a tight hug. "I'm sorry I made you worry."

"It's okay hun. I’ll always worry, it’s part of the job. Just don't overdo it again," May gave Peter a soft smile and ran her fingers through his hair, remembering the days when he was younger and he could curl up in her lap. She savoured the moment for a short while, then pulled back and stood up, offering to heat up Peter’s now cold waffles.

Peter rejected the offer and went right back to demolishing the plate of food.

Amused, and partly amused, by the way Peter damn near _shovelled_ the food down his throat — seriously, did she not teach him table manners? — May plated some waffles for herself and joined her nephew at the table.

She hoped she'd gotten through to Peter but knew that it wasn't likely. He was a teenager. They were impulsive by nature, and even Peter — smart and mature as he was — wasn't immune to that. But if he was a bit more cautious for the next few weeks, well, she’d consider that a win.

* * *

It was 10 in the morning and Harry was just getting out of bed. His eyes were lidded and his senses were dulled with sleep when he tripped over something and fell over. He only just managed to catch his fall before he smacked his head on the floor. With a groan, Harry got back up on his feet and looked around to see what the blasted obstacle was.

He was not expecting to see a pile of magic books spread out on the floor next to his bed.

Harry stared at the scattered tomes and, as his eyes flitted between different covers, he noticed a piece of parchment perched on the most central stack of books left caught Harry's attention. He bent down to pick it up, unrolled it, and read its contents.

It was a message from Death.

' **A parting gift from an old world. Use them well.'**

Shaking his head in amazement, Harry surveyed the books again. He was never much of a reader but these books were undoubtedly a priceless resource when stranded in a world without magic. And… _was that a chest?_

Harry crouched down and picked up a small wooden chest. He set it on his bed and sat down, unlatching the lid and peering inside.

Well. It looked like he had more to thank Death for. This little magically expanded chest was stocked with potions ingredients; nothing too special, they might well be from his old school potions kit, but that was plenty.

Harry shut the lid and got off the bed. He realised he needed a place to store the books and ingredients. It occurred to him that he could just get a bookshelf and set them up in the living room with a notice-me-not charm, but that had risks Harry wasn't comfortable allowing. He recalled that sometime in his sixth year, in Charms class, Professor Flitwick had lectured them about recently discovered side effects of the notice-me-not charm. Evidently, some research had been done that proved that constant exposure to notice-me-not charms could make some Muggles go barmy. Naturally, many of the Slytherins in the class hadn't cared one bit, but Hermione had been positively horrified — as was Harry.

He knew he needed to keep it out of view, and that was how Harry decided to use the second bedroom. He set the note on his bedside table then walked into the living room, summoning his wand as he did so.

He went on to levitate the bookcase from the living room and set it up in the corner of his newly dubbed ‘magic room’. He then brought the books over and slotted them into the bookcase in no particular order, and — lacking any other storage space — he pulled out the jars of potions ingredients and lined them up on the shelves as well.

Unfortunately, that was it; he didn’t have any scrap material left to transfigure, so he couldn’t furnish it any further for now, save for bringing in an armchair from the living room to leave in the corner.

With that, he was done — and just as well, he was hungry and couldn’t be arsed to do more.

He also couldn’t be arsed to cook anything, so he decided on a toasted cheese and tomato sandwich. He was just slicing a tomato when he got a text. Figuring it was Peter, Harry set the knife down and picked up his phone.

Harry’s eyebrows shot up.

_+01 212-203-6443: Congratulations Dear Customer [Harry Potter]! As part of our give-back program at O’Reilly’s Healthy Foods, you’ve won a ticket to go see an exclusive outdoors performance from New York Insider’s local act of the year - the FE group! The show is at 6pm tonight, at Kissena Park. Please text back ‘YES’ to confirm your attendance. Your ticket will be issued at the site._

Harry was a little confused by the message. He had been to that store, but he didn’t think he signed up for anything. Still, how nice of them to send him a ticket to a musical performance. Obviously, he wasn’t familiar with the act, but he wasn’t opposed to giving it a go.

Without thinking about it too much, Harry texted back ‘YES’.

The second text message came back moments later.

_+01 212-203-6443: Attendance confirmed. Thank you for shopping at O’Reilly’s Healthy Foods! Your ticket will be issued at the site [Location]. We hope you enjoy the show._

Harry stared at his phone for a little bit, a strange feeling building up in his gut, then shrugged it off and went back to making his sandwich.

After having his fill Harry lounged around the house for most of the day, watching videos on his phone, practicing his magic, and — Merlin help him — reading one of the books. Eventually, the time for the park performance came around. He got off the couch and shoved his phone in his pocket, alongside his wallet and keys, and left the flat. He took the stairs down to the front of the building, having decided to make his way to the park by foot. It would only be a twenty minute walk according to his phone.

Having been here for almost a month now, the shine of the city had worn off, but as he stepped outside Harry admired the shadows cast all around by the setting sun. Far from him to be poetic, but he almost wished he could tell time to stop, leaving the world forever at the precipice of night — bathed in the golden, red, and purple hues of the sky.

Time stopped for no one however, no matter how nicely one asked. It was an endless current, unstoppable; one could only brace for the wave. The sun was on its way down, and it wouldn’t be long before street lights flickered on all around the city, bathing it in their artificial lights and drowning out the stars.

A car honked in the distance, disturbing Harry's musings. He sighed and took one step forward, then another, and ambled down the streets of New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long wait, another chapter! I've rewritten this one like 2 or 3 times already. Honestly, I'm posting it just so that I don't have to look at it again.
> 
> Enjoy! Can't wait to hear what you think - what you liked, what you didn't like, any errors you might have spotted.
> 
> And of course, thanks again for all the comments on the last chapter!
> 
> Cheers.
> 
> (Oh, and I may or may not be writing the scene of The Big Reveal. Question is, can you guess which chapter it'll be in? Chapter 10? 11 possibly? How about 12? Maybe 13?)


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